Small gestures
by MathildeM
Summary: Natasha Romanoff /Maria Hill multichapters ROMANCE ! Natasha and Maria are two strong independant women dedicated to their missions. Still, from time to time, they need a little help reminding them that it's okay to take care of themselves. They are humans, after all. [i do not own the characters blablabla] Set after Avengers 1 in New York.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Its 0730am when Natasha walks the corridor of the helicarrier. She is early for her briefing post mission. The mission went well, she didn't get much nightmares this time at night, the mark went with them without needing convincing on their part. Being under heavy fire help in the matter. She scientist is now under SHIELD protection and his genious brain out of Hydra's reach.

She walks past the Deputy Director's office and sees the door slightly open. She frowns. It isn't like Maria Hill to be sloopy, the woman is like a machine, firing orders with her clean uniform, her steady stance and her fierce expression. Her eyes though are always what gets Natasha's attention. They are so blue, so full of her steeled personality, they could pierce any armor and bend any knees to the ground. The woman is an unstopable force.

She is the perfect soldier, ranking deservingly above everyone else on SHIELD, she is the second in command after Fury. And she is not sloopy. Ever. Yet, her door is opened.

Natasha passes in mission mode, her steps are light, her movements smooth. With practiced grace she flows to the door, listens carefuly. She only hear papers being moved, pencil scratching pages of reports, she assumes, nothing else. She scans the ambiance, but detects no wary vibes. She trusts her instincts enough to sneak a peak in the room. There is no one here except the Commander, bent on her desck, emerged in her work.

Natasha looses the fighting posture, but her frown comes back when she leans against the door frame and pushes the door wild open without disturbing the Deputy Director. The mouvement should have make her jump to attention, grab a gun and aim at her direction, ready to strike. As it is, the fierce woman is still head down in her paperwork, blinking furiously. To focus. She is leaning on her elbows, one hand supporting her head, the other pointing a line in the report in front of her. She isn't moving, her eyes unseeing. She is fighting her exhaustion.

Knowing the woman, after five years working with SHIELD, Natasha can only imagine how many days Commander Hill spend on call, working hard to keep the ship flowing and everyone under her guard safe, from the class one agents to the top. She is the will maintaining SHIELD together. But at the end of the day, even the strongest person is only human, and need to rest. Now.

'Maria'

It is the first time since they meet that Natasha allows herself to call the Deputy Director by name. The name rools on her tongue, gentle. Her voice is smooth when she calls her, not wanting to stratle her and send her on tension. Even with that precaution, the Commander's previous tiredness vanishes when she turns around, hand flying under her desk. Probably reaching for her hided gun. Good. She is still the Commander Hill they all know and respect. Well, actually at least half of the agents fears her a little too. The woman is intimidating to say the least. She forces you to be better.

Her face looses her hard lines when she reconises Natasha. She doesn't have the energy to speak, aparently, otherwise Natasha would be in for a lecture about ethiquet and such. Instead, the Deputy blinks her eyes in acknowledgement, then turns to her desk again. Natasha is short from snorting at that.

'When was the last time you slept ?' she asks instead, her voice still gentle. The only time she ever uses that voice is with Clint's children. She discovered her ability to be nice, kind even, while spending time with the happy family. She would have never imagine using it with the strong Commander. Ever. Yet, here she is, talking to her like to a small child, but in the morning light Maria Hill looks like one. A child who needs to be shoo to bed, tucked in and read a story to sleep. The image should be disturbing, but it's not. To Natasha, the sight is intriguing, and a little bit cute. She would never admit that to anyone. She barely admit it to herself.

Maria Hill, Deputy Director, the instopable Commander, is cute.

The sigh that leaves the Deputy's mouth, probably without her consent and realisation, is enough to shake Natasha into action. She knows that going frontal with the woman isn't a winning strategy. The Commander is stubborn, unyielding, she doesn't take orders well, even those disguisted as advice. So she foregoes words. Instead she moves closer to the ever working woman, until she is right behind her chair. Still, the Commander doesn't react. She accepts having a agent moving arround in her office without purpose. She accepts having Agent Romanoff, the Black Widow, lurking behind her, unsupervised, doing God knows what in her back. This, more than anything, makes Natasha's heart skips a beat. Because she knows that not even in death Commander Hill would drop her guard arround anyone she doesn't fully trust.

Yet, here, now, her guard is down, her back is to her, and she doesn't tense, she doesn't care. Because she trusts Natasha.

If she wasn't a master of controling her emotions, skashing it to the ground before learning to walk of speak, Natasha would have cry. After five years earning her place among SHIELD, the silent trust Maria Hill is showing her today is the highest award there is.

A small smile brasses her lips when she leans foreward, reducing the distance. Her voice is even more gentle when she speaks next, and she blames her emotions for that. She isn't as efficient to erase her feelings as before. Since joining SHIELD, she did the opposite, in fact. Clint, Coulson, even Fury, all showed her it is good to feel, to express her feelings, to laugh, to cry, to mourn. She has come a long walk from her starting point out of the Red Room.

'Maria' she calls again, voice wavering – a little . She hopes the Commander doesn't notice the slight trembling in her voice, but of course it is the Deputy Director she is talking to. She notices. Still, she doesn't react. It is like coercing an animal.

Being this close to her now, Natasha sees the rigid posture. Hill gives out waves after waves of exhausted tension. The woman doesn't break, the woman never break. But she can be bent.

Slowly, Natasha extends her arms and puts both hands on Maria's shoulders. The Commander stiffens immediatly at that, almost droping her pen. She doesn't say anything, and after a heartbeat she exhales and releases her tension. Still, her muscles under Natasha's fingerstips are tight as she starts to massage the aera.

She takes her time, staying on each spot of the higher back, coaxing the tension out of the body. She poses a rhythm, working silently in soothing movements with her thumbs through the uniform standard jacket. Maria doesn't move at first, she doesn't go back to her papers either. Then, with a quiet sign only Natasha practised ear can pick up, she drops her pen moves her arms out of the desk, droping them to her side. Her shoulder blades eased, ready for more relaxing. Natasha complies.

They stay in silence still, when Maria moves again. Ever so slowly, as if surrendering with slight reluctance but still keeping her pride intact, her head drops forward, clearing her long neck. The silent invitation is enough for Natasha's strong fingers to reach the smooth skin and start kneading there. She sees the shiver her touch creats, the goosebumps. She feels the same shudder from head to toe, but none of their mention it.

They stay like this for a while, maybe fifteen minutes, Natasha doesn't count. She should, because she has a debriel to get to. But she doesn't think about it now, she is too submerged in her tarsk, in the woman under her fingers. In their quiet trance like, they are leveled somehow.

For a short moment, Natasha is no longer a SHIELD agent, an ex-KGB assassin, the Black Widow. She is just Natasha, the woman, massaging Maria, who is not the Commander Hill bad hass, the Deputy Director machine. She is just Maria.

Natasha is just taking care of Maria, and nothing else matter.

It is a magical moment.

But then, like every moment in life, it doesn't last. She energy shifts in the room, and it's time to move. Natasha has tamed the Commander, surrendering her tension under her massaging motions, now is time for the next step. Slowly, she ends her massage with a carress of her neck, fingerstips striding in brown hair at the base of the skull. She puts her hand flat on Maria's neck, the other one slides on her arm, never breaking contact. The touch is intimate for them. They don't mention it.

'Come' her voice is soft, a whisper in the quiet room. The fierce Commander complies with heavy limps. Slowly, the chair rolls back as Maria gets on her feet, her eyes still closed. As she rises Natasha's hand glides along her neck to her lower back, lingers a little as if saying good by, then leaves. The skin of her hand tingles, mourning the warmth. Her other hand slides along the arm and catches a wrist. Gently, Natasha leads the way to the bedroon next door, her index finger drifting on the palm of the hand, her other fingers firmly hocked to the woman's wrist. Again, Maria fallows without a fuse, her eyes barely opened.

The Deputy Director's quarters are in the nicest part of the helicarrier. The bedroom is big with bright windows letting the morning light in. Out of habit, Natasha quickly scans her surroundings while guiding Maria to the large, inviting bed. As soon as she reaches it, the woman drops flat on her back, arms spread, eyes closed, ready to sleep on the spot. Natasha chuckles a little at the sight. The Commander is definitly no more, only Maria remains in front of her, only for her to see. She knows the priviledge that is. For a moment, she allows herself to bath on it. She feels elated, and she allows herself to be. She doesn't question it.

She makes quick work of the boots, decide not to push and leave the rest of the uniform in place. Maria would have to undress herself in her sleep if the pants bother her. She'll just help moving out of the tight jacket before leaving the woman to her deserved rest.

'Turn arround' her musky voice rings out. Maria grunts and with a push in the right direction, finaly complies. Natasha bends, grabs the sleeve, clear out the shoulders and remove the item. The Commander isn't moving. Natasha's gaze linger in her almost relaxed face, then her soft hair still restrained by the bun. Her fingers remove the rubber band and clips, putting them on the side table, before coming back like flyes to light. She feels the need to touch the softness of the woman, to ease as much tension out of her as possible.

She sits on the bed next to the sleepy form.

Slowly, Natasha's fingers slides in locks, spreading hair, carressing, before going for the skull. With smooth cercling motions, she starts a new massage for the head, knowing full well how much Maria uses it every awaking moment. How much her brain must need the relieve. She doesn't hesitate after that. Again, she poses a rhythm, loses herself in it, massage every inch of skull accessible. She doesn't touch the face, but her eyes do, they caress as her hands would, they smooth as her fingers to the skull. She contemplates how with each passing minute the hard lines of Maria's face abate, how innocent the woman slowly become. She leaves her burdens at the door, her rank at the desk. She leaves it all and finaly allowes herself to relax completly. Her breathing is deep when Natasha ends her rubbing motion. Slowly her fingers leave the softness of brown locks, her eyes caress the woman's face one last time before she gets up in one fluide move. She feels cold, standing alone out of reach, out of the warmth of Maria. She shakes her head to clear her mind, but the strange feeling lingers. Longing. Like a squez in her heart. She never felt that before, she doesn't know what to make of it. She decides not to dwel on that, it will pass in a few minutes. She goes to close the curtains when she hears the barely articulate voice of the Commander.

'Thank you Nat'ssh'

Natasha swallows hard, gazes at the woman hard asleep spread on her front with locks everywhere, before closing the door. Her hand lingers on the handle, and she realises she is trembling. She tries to ignore her body reaction, her heartbeat speeder than usual, and focuses on her day instead. She is in uniform, on the helicarrier, it's morning. She is late for briefing.

/

/

TBC

/

/

A/N

So, i wrote that this morning, not edited, sorry ! hope you like it. There will be more to it

again, english isn't my first language, sorry for the possible mistakes !

:o)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Maria doesn't remember calling her Nat. She remembers, however, Agent Romanoff calling her by her first name. Maria. She remembers the way her name sounded, the gentle tone of the Russian's voice. It is the first thing that comes to her mind as she wakes up in her bed, in the exact same position she was left hours ago, spread wild lying on her front.

She doesn't move just yet, she revels in the soft buzz of her body. She feels really relaxed for the first time in weeks. The last time she felt so at ease was when she had enough down time to go back to her appartement and retreat to a spa close by. God, a spa would be perfect right now. Warm water, warm tea, hot steam, healthy food and regular massage, and no one to talk to her for hours. Peace and quiet. But it's not for now.

Maria has a very good memory, she registers everything in her mind, folds it neatly in drawers in the ever growing library of her brain. She maybe was tired and a little hazy – she can admit that – but now that she is fully rested she can revisite the moment she lived with... Natasha.

She remembers the feeling of Agent Romanoff's hands on her, the way her skin welcomed her touch. She closes her eyes and allows herself to relive it plainly. The gentle, almost tender manner she was handled from her desk to her bed, the rich tone of her calling her name, the powerful yet smooth presence of the quiet woman standing in her office, watching her, watching over her. She remembers her own reluctance to let go of her work -she had almost finish reading the report of the London's mission about a possible new asset – and the feeling of safety.

It is a feeling she isn't used to. She knows what it feels like to be physicaly safe since she tought herself how to fight and enlisted in military. She knows the feeling of security she creates for herself, from herself. This time it was different, this time she felt it because someone other than herself was protecting her, taking care of her. And she allowed it. That is the most surprising part of it all. She accepted it completely.

It isn't the first time someone tries to take care of her. She had few lovers in her adult life, and at some point each one tried to make her drop her guard, to hold her in their arms, waiting for her to fully relax, trusting them to keep watch. She never was able to. All her life she only knew the need to protect herself, to be vigilent. It was born out of necessity early on in her childhood, and it is a feeling that never left her. She never dared to let it.

She never trusted anyone enough to do it.

That is why she is amazed and a little sheepish about what unfolded with Natasha only hours ago, pretty much without her conscious consent. Which never happens either. Maria is always in control, even tired as she was, she would have keep watch.

She remembers seeing the door opening, catching red hair with the corner of her eye while focusing on Baldwin's poor handwritting. She remembers going for her glock out of habit before remembering it was Agent Romanoff she already spoted earlier, dismissing her presence as she was no immediate threat at the moment. That was normal behaviour for her when in situation with low energy suplie. She selects where to put her full attention, but keeps an eye out even then. Except something changed the instant Natasha called her name.

Something inside her purred, she can only describe it like that.

There was a wild animal deep inside of her, always wary, keeping watch over her, always on the defencive, always on the run. Surviving. She knows a psychic eval would tell her it is her inner child felling afraid, unsafe, always fearing to be bitten, or worse. She knows it's there, it's a part of her she accepted a long time ago. The broken part unable to heal, unable to move on from her past. That is the wild, wounded and growling animal she keeps locked deep inside. A dangerous, feral part of her ready to lash out.

Natasha's quiet presence tamed it in minutes.

The mere thought of it sends Maria's guard up.

She hasn't realise it was down. It is never down. She is always alert, even in her sleep.

What the fuck is going on ?

She doesn't know, and it is a britch in her control. She doesn't do well with mystery. It is one of the main reasons she became a spy. She doesn't like surprises. Gathering all the intel, she is prepared for whatever happens.

In front of the recent event, she sees only two choices : explore this new element so it'll become something close to normal and not as nerve frying as it is now. Or run. Avoid a repeat of the situation at any cost necessary.

She doesn't do running.

/

Her six hours of uninterupted sleep – she suspects Natasha being the cause of the uninterupted part, yet she doesn't comprehend how the woman did it –, a hot shower and a black coffee later, Maria finaly finishes her paper work. For now. There is always more coming in and to be done, but she decides to let the administrative side of her job apart for now.

Maybe she'll actualy take Fury's suggestion and hire an assistant to do those tasks for her. She accepted the Deputy Director 's post to protect and handle hard situations at hand, after all, not to sign mountain of bureaucraty modalities.

She makes a detour by the mess, salute the Agents crossing her way in, piercing each of them with her steady gaze. She knows it unerves them as much as it boosts them. With each eye contact she sends them her encouragement, reminds them of the value of SHIELD, of what they stand for. She reminds them to be proud and to thrive for more, because the world depends on their protection. The rapid penetrating stare is enough of a motivation. It is worth more than any lecture. Efficient, quick, it takes nothing out of her busy scheldule and it makes all the difference while the current Director shines by his absence. Again. The man is never here.

If it weren't for the random orders he sends her way from time to time seemingly out of nowhere, Maria would think she is fully in charge of the agency. She is glad she isn't. Being Deputy Director is hard enough work, and she prefers it anyway. She doesn't want to deal with the Council and all the politics. She wants to handle missions, supervise her agents's well being, that is what she likes to do.

Today is no different. A sandwich in hand, coffee to go, she walks to the main deck. The room is busy as usual, but a quiet busy. A 'everything is happening accordingly to mission plans' kind of quiet. No mission gone wrong, no emergency extraction, no wounded and most of all, no dead agent on the field. Everything goes smoothly, and Maria thanks every deity for this. After the last cathastrophy she really needs a holiday. Maybe she will be able to take some days off, soon.

She feels like the spa is calling her from afar.

She shakes her head and focuses on the list on screen. The on-going missions and the ones waiting to be send. As Deputy Director she personaly handles the most classified missions. She chooses which team goes where, fallows all the prep and watches it unfold from afar. She then reads the reports and congratulates the team in her office.

Today two high leveled missions are waiting her assent to go. They've been over the details of each operation, both needing to be synchronised for it to work. The communication between all parts is key.

She choses Agent Coulson and Agent May to handle each their unit of three agents. One taking care of the technology aspect – cams, coms, scans, jamming devices and such -, one principal spy going in, sometimes under a fake cover, sometimes sneaking in avoiding getting caught – it always depends on the field's previous observations, only Maria makes the call about how to proced about it – and one guarding in the shadows, ready to strike and protect his partner.

Agent May's regular team is ready to go. Jemma Simmons, Daisy Johnson and Barbara Morse form an efficient femal group of Agents, so in tune with one another that they can improvised if necessary. The Inhuman Quake's abilities often comes in handy.

Agent's Coulson old team is chating with them in the room above the main desk. Maria can spot Quake talking animatly with her hands to an awkward Hawkeye rubbing his neck. He is sending 'help me !' glances to his partner Romanoff, but Natasha is too busy rolling back in her chair, smirking at the scene, to stop the show. Doctor Simmons's biology expert is a little nervous, the grown woman still gets stage fright before going in, but it passes the moment she is on mission mode. For now she is fidgeting next to a very bored Mockingbird. The Agent obviously itches to uses her eletric sticks to bit them out of there. She prefers to go in as soon as possible and be done with it. Fortunately she is very well tempered once in action, juggling easely with all sets of emotions from crying on command to tremendous patience. Once she is in. Now she doesn't seem the patient kind at all.

Agent Coulson and Agent May are standing side by side quietly in front of the wall windows, looking out. Their back is to Maria but she knows them well enough to know their faces are relaxed, almost peacefull, not caring of the bantering happening behind them. Their quiet friendship is the rock promising the mission's coordination will go smoothly.

Maria glances at her watch, takes a deep breath and switches in Commander Hill no'nonsense mode. Shoulder square, she marches in the room, her tablet still in hand. 'You all know what to do.' She stares down at her agents, all suddenly quiet and serious.

'Time to go'

With a nod they fill out the room. Maria doesn't give more attention to one agent in particular. She doesn't. Still, when long, curling red hair passes her vision she says 'Be careful'

/

Coulson and May handled the mission as best as they could. They retrieved the intel, destroyed the labs and all datas, then bombed the place to the ground. It is a success. Yet, Agent Romanoff has been hit. Nothing serious, just a scratch according to the coms from the field, no extract team necessary. Medic is taking care of the injury now that they are all back to base.

Everyone is off, debriefing is due tomorrow. Some of them are probably out for a drink or a long night of sleep, some – Bobby – are having a poker feast, others are with their family. There is one that is still here.

After five years watching her from afar, reading reports and assessing her mental and emotional state, Maria knows Natasha is most likely in the training room of the helicarrier, burning off what tensions remains from the assignment.

Maria refused a long time ago to read the details of her psychic evaluations. She only read the psychologist's conclusion clearing her for missions. Romanoff's weakly sessions added to the gym are a routine that seems to help the ex-assassin getting rid of her traumatic past. Maria can only guess how each mission, while being what Natasha thrives at, is also somehow a trigger to bad memories and underlying guilt.

It is 0311am when Maria takes a break from looking at canditates. She will chose an assistant by the end of her shift. She keeps the two most promising files apart, stands up, stretches and goes for a walk along the ship. She needs to move out of her office, and it's always good for moral to see the Deputy Director walking around.

She doesn't make the conscious decision to go to the gym, yet Maria finds herself in front of the doors. She can hear the steady humpf of a bag being punch. She doesn't stop to think, she knows it's better this way. She pushes the door and entered the large training room.

At this time of night it isn't surprising to see agents running drills, but tonight Natasha is alone in there, focused on the hanging punching bag. She is wearing the regular training set of sport bra, and shorts. Her black tank top is discarded on the floor. She is bare feet, jumping back and fourth on strong legs, guard up. Her fists are not gloved, just banded with the customary white band protecting her knukles. Her beautiful red hair, which she has let growing back, are falling under her shoulder blades so she keeps them out of the way in a messy pony tale.

She looks quite dishevelled hitting the bag again and again without missing a beat. It isn't like the collected Agent Romanoff's façade she usualy shows the world. Here, in the middle of the night, alone in her fists and kicks session, Natasha lets go of her restrains and finaly allows herself to fully express herself.

It is a magnificent demonstration of brutal grace, and for a moment Maria forgets to breath.

Natasha's fighting stance never wavers, she alternates quick punchs, left, right, left, an elbow move, pivot left, right, guard up. Her foot work is perfect, always keeping her balance as she drops down, dodging invisible opponent, throws a hook in the mix, pivots and starts her legs work without breaking her rhythm. She is breathing hard in the quiet gym, totaly engrossed by her fight, she doesn't notice when Maria finaly walks toward her.

The Commander choses to move around her, coming up from the front as to not strattle the boxing woman. The only clue showing when Natasha spots her is the short pause of breath she hears before the agent continues her training, green eyes on the swiging bag. Maria closes the distance then, grabs the heavy bag, positions her legs and front to steady it, not caring it her uniform gets a little crumpled.

They don't talk. Natasha doesn't look at her. For her part Maria has some difficulties keeping her eyes to herself. From up close, the Russian is absolutly gorgeous, a delicate balance of both smooth curves and hard muscles. Her full breasts firmly supported by her fitting bra as still teasingly showing, glistening with drops of sweat. The sweat goes down to her toned abdomen and her inviting belly button, before going lower still. Maria averts her eyes and blinks, her hold on the bag secured. She feels every hit vibrating in the bag. The small woman is strong when she lashes out.

Maria's gaze lands on the ground where pale feet jump up and down, back and fourth. Her toes are not polished, she doesn't wear any make up either. This is the most raw Natasha has ever been in front of her, Maria realises, and the woman doesn't cover from her stare. She is explosion of punchs, but most of all, she is explosion of emotions. Her face is a mixture of angst, sadness and anger with a little bit of confusion, making her grimace in a silent snarl, eyes shining unshed tears.

She doesn't hide while Maria watches her. She doesn't want to. Maria can only guess that she feels safe with her seeing that private part of her. Like she saw Maria's private part this morning tucking her to bed.

Somehow, that makes them even.

After long minutes of exertion Natasha decreases her stance, then stops completely, drops her hands to her knees. She bends her uper body, breathing hard, blinking the sweat looking at the mat. Maria doesn't move an inch, too entranced by the woman standing right in front of her. Natasha focuses on her breath a moment more before straightening up, banded hands on her hips just above her black short. For the first time today they lock eyes.

They are both wild awake now, alone and close, but still they do not move or speak, just breath, blue eyes to green eyes. Maria waits to see if Romanoff will chose a mask to herself now, hiding behind a less tangled image she can project of her. The woman is an expert at personalities flips, always picking the one that suits her the most according to the situation. It is one of her best qualities and also her bigger curse.

When she first landed at SHIELD facility, she had an arsenal of personalities. She could impersonate anyone in a heart beat, a shy secretary, a cold scientist, a crying selfdestrusive teenager, ... but she didn't know who she was underneath it all. The Red Room programmed her to be a tool, the perfect assassin, nothing more. She wasn't allow choices, opinions, likings. She was a muppet being used or stored under lock, that is all she ever was. Joining SHIELD wasn't just about guilt and righting her numberous killings, it was also about discovering who she really was.

After five years among the agency, Natasha Romanoff knows a lot about herself, but she still discovers new pieces now and then. What Maria knows about her is that the woman is reserved, picking up carefuly what she allows people to see about her, about the real her. She tries to remain truthfull and honest with the agency, she doesn't use her fake personalities outside of cover missions, she draws a line there, but still, she doesn't let much people in. In fact, beside Clint and his family, Maria doesn't think anyone else is autorised to see the deepth of Natasha Romanoff - not even the Avengers who became good friends with her along the way.

It is with all this knowledge that Maria waits to witness Natasha withdraw with a polite nod. But it doesn't come. She is still laying bare for her to see all the emotions and fatigue and the barely there track of the few tears she finally lets out mixing with her sweat. Standing here, bare feet with her tousled ponytale, the small woman looks back at her and Maria feels the intense need to drown in her iris.

What is going on ? Why does she feels something very important is shifting between them ?

Maria's guarding stance relaxes, as if reacting to the sight of an opened Natasha. The usual tension she lives by each awaking moment, her usual guard, is droping fast, and it makes her unsure. Her heartbeat increases, and in this situation so new and confusing to her, she is overwhelmed and tries to deviate.

Breaking eye contact, she swallows and say the first thing on her mind.

'I never saw you fight like that on the field, little boxing machine' she remarks with a voice she barely reconises. She is actually _teasing_ the woman. Seriously, Maria doesn't reconise herself right now. It is ambarasing. She refrains to rub at the back of her neck, she is _not_ an awkward teenager anymore.

Get a grip, Hill.

Natasha blinks as if she felt the intimaty they just shared too. Like Maria, Natasha must feel lost, not knowing how to interact now. Welcome to the club. Maria can see how Natasha fights not to hide behind one of her personalities. She is unbalanced and afraid, and she doesn't like it. They are so alike on that front, it is a miracle they are still standing with one another and not flitting the scene.

Truth is, for inconfortable she is at this moment, Maria doesn't want to leave the captivating woman.

She hopes however that Natasha will take the opening to start her usual banter, making their exchange easier. Even if usualy Romanoff banters with Clint, Steve or Bruce, even with Thor – enjoying messing with his awkward misunderstanding of human humor most of the time - , not with the Deputy Director of SHIELD. This is so strange. Stranger than talking to an alien. Maria would not be as nervous facing an other wierd galactic situation gone awry. Give it to her and she takes it in strides, but put her in front of a half naked sweating Natasha Romanoff and she loses all her composture.

This is terrible.

Natasha registers her words, grins at her, but her eyes are sad and her shoulders drop. She lowers her gaze and looks at the ground, her face sour. 'I don't do brutal strenght. I was trained to be a sneaky assassin' Her usual smoky voice is strained, both from physical and emotional exertion.

Maria sees the remorse, the uncertainty. After all those years and hard deprogramming, there is still doubt and self loathing in Natasha's mind.

The woman seems suddenly small and young.

'I was trained to sneak up behind a mark and kill without a sound. My technic has always been one of shadow's efficiency.' She smiles again, her eyes never leaving the mat. 'Steve taught me how to box' she reveals softly, almost shyly.

She doesn't say more. Her words hang in the air and Maria picks up the rest. Natasha the SHIELD agent made a friend who showed her an other way to fight, probably during long training sessions of jokes, banter and the like. This should be a good thing to talk about, but Natasha isn't focusing on that part of her statement, she is reliving her Russian training and her murderous skills. She is traveling in her past, in all the times she used her felin approch to strike with only one, deadly move, leaving her mark of the Black Widow and moving on to the next target. A killing machine.

'Natasha'

Maria calls with the soft voice she nevers uses. There is a profond need she feels burning in her chest, a need to reassure, to confort even. The woman doesn't move, but Maria knows she is listening. She keeps talking, hoping her voice and her words will bring her out of the Red Room, back to the present.

' You are a strong, independant woman now, and you do not kill anymore. I saw your work on the field, i read the reports, you dismantled countless of heavy armed enemies with your usual efficiency, yes, but you leave them alive. You knock them hard so they stay inconscious, you shot their legs, shoulders, foot, where ever you can to incapacitate without touching any artery. You don't take their lives, Natasha. You only takes a life when you have no option left, but even then, i know you find an other way. It is like a reflex for you, to spare them.'

Marie isn't the kind of person who likes to repeat herself, but now she makes an exception, because the suddenly timid woman needs to print that in the front of her brain. 'You strike efficiently, they are inconscious or incapacitated, but not dead when you leave. '

Maria's voice is strong now, the embodiment of Commander Hill. She talks to her agent with her commanding voice.

'You are Natasha Romanoff, Agent of SHIELD. You are a _protector_ , Natasha. You use your skill to protect, protect your friends, like Clint, protect yourself, and secure the safety of all the civilians of Earth. '

Maria releases her grip on the bag, she didn't realise how hard she was holding it. She stands fully in front of the small Russian and brings her left hand forward, catching a chin. Natasha complies to the soft touch and rights her head so they are facing each other. Maria's fierce gaze locks into those haunted green eyes.

The hand on Natasha's chin slowly moves to the side of the face, cupping a cheek.

'Remember who you are, Natasha. ' Maria's voice is soft again, but her demeanour remains resolute. 'You are a protector. You are a SHIELD agent'

Usaly Maria isn't fond of heavy patriotism, but Natasha needs to feel like she belongs to a support unit, to a system reliable with friends. Both of them knows that SHIEL isn't perfect, their is politics at play, manipulations alike, but they all try to maintain the primary goal of the agency : protecting the world. Of that there is no doubt. And for now, this simple – and naive – truth is enough for Maria to make her point.

Finaly, Maria sees recognision sinking. She allows herself to smile at the sight, lingering a little on Natasha's face before sliding her fingers along the skin, droping her hand to her side, breaking contact.

The way Natasha stares at her, so raw, is too much for her to take, so she choses to look away. That is when she notices a pearl of crimson blood on the bround. Fallowing the trajectory she sees a long red line drawing along Natasha's right arm, leading to her shoulder blate.

'You're bleeding'

Natasha blinks a little, moving out of her daze she looks at where Maria points. Silently grateful for the change of topic, Hill is in officer mode again, moving around the agent, scaning skin, assessing damages. Romanoff's brutal boxing session tored the gash open. It seems to be superficial though, nothing to worry about in their line of work.

'Did you go to medical ?' Her tone is all Commander Hill. Natasha sends her a look above her shoulder. A smirk starts to appear on her lips, her eyes shine with mirth. That is a sight Maria is more accustomed to see.

'I fallowed protocol, Commander'

They stare for a moment, then Natasha gently steps forward, out of reach from the inspecting fingertips Maria hadn't realise were probing, picks up her shirt from the ground, and heads toward the women lockerroom and showers.

Maria's gaze fallows the light sway of hips, the way red hair cling to the sweating skin of her back. Once Natasha reaches the door, she stops and turns around. Maria doesn't even try to pretend she wasn't looking. They both know she was. Anybody would. Natasha smirks at her, but her smirk morphs into a genuine, almost shy smile.

'Thank you, Maria'

Leaving her words flowing in the quiet gym, she opens the door and leaves.

/

/

/

TBC

/

A/N

I didn't expect it to be so long to write, i planed more but i decided to cut it so you can already read that part.

I didn't watch the movies in a very long time, but i'm getting on it to be fresh on the storylines and all the complexity of marvel's univers. I remember most of the serie. I catch some background stories about the characters on the net, _but that being said_ , mostly i'm gonna improvise anyway ^^

So don't be surprised if the story goes it's own way ! I like my characters matures, no stupid drama scheduled.

THANK YOU so much for your review ! It is so nice to know you enjoy the stories ;o)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The shower helped, hot water hitting her muscles. The sweet scent of the cherry shampoo is lingering on Natasha's skin as she finishes to buckle her first boot. Her damp hair falls on the side of her face while she is sitting on a bench in the lockerroom, her shirt lying beside her, waiting to be wear. The other shoe is in her hands, but she doesn't move yet.

Her body is relaxed however she is still confused.

She can't shake the fluttering that started in her belly when Commander Hill touched her shoulder earlier. Something is different, new. Not necessarely wrong, just... new. Confusing.

She closes her eyes, elbows on her knees, and sighs. The fatigue post mission is sattling in, but she knows she will not sleep. Not after this op. After so many years of deprogramming, Natasha knows too well what event could trigger a memory. Being in a lab earlier is one of them. She knows she'll dream about the Red Room, about the experiments they did to her in her early childhood, about the tests, the contant probing... and more. Her nightmares always finish with the same scene : her, lying on a metalic table, with them hovering everywhere, touching her everywhere. The Graduation Ceremony. Unconsciously she brings her hand to her belly.

Her mind is already starting to drift to the dark memories, she cannot let herself go there. It is only pain, hopelessness. Void.

Natasha frowns and shakes her head a little, swallows. She tries to focus on her present, on the boot in her hand, on the scent of her hair or the pattern of her pants. She is sitting in a lockerroom in SHIELD helicarrier, she is not in Red Room anymore, they cannot reach her, they are all dead, she made sure of that. They cannot reach her. They are dead.

Yet, she can feel their hands on her now, theirs voices in her head. They are always there, in the darkness of her soul, choking her.

The first year after joining SHIELD, the team in charge of her deprogramming offered her to erase all of her memory, to restart completely. A clean slate. She refused. She didn't want to forget, she thought she deserved the guilt, the burden of her killings. Sometimes though Natasha wonders. She wonders what it would be like to not feel haunted by her past anymore. To feel light.

She wonders if the offer still stands.

It'is the presence appearing behind her that finally cuts her from her dark thoughts. Natasha tenses a second, before recognising the steady company standing in her back. Commander Hill.

Natasha is surprised the Deputy Director is still here, the woman doesn't linger anywhere, she always has something do to, someone calling her for something. Since Natasha met her right after her reprogramming - which took about nine months of secluded protocols living in an isolated cell only visited by one psychiatrist and two scientists – she had never seen Commander Hill staying in one place more than thirty minutes long.

Natasha glimpses at the clock above her locker. It's 0424 now.

The tall woman behind her doesn't move, doesn't talk. Natasha doesn't turn around but she knows the Commander is standing with her usual stance, feet firmly set on the ground, arms crossed on her chest, shoulders open and head perfectly aligne with her spine. She is a spear hammered straight to the ground, a tower of unmovable strength.

The image makes Natasha smiles. She feels warmth starting to spread in her chest, the trumbling in her belly grows. She is tingling all over with the mere idea of Maria standing behind her with her quiet stance, blue eyes percing her. No, caressing.

Natasha shivers. What is going on with her ? She had never feel this way before, ever. Her body is behaving with mixts symptoms but she knows it isn't the effect of a physical infection. It's emotional. She have been through a lot of emotions in her life, an all set of angst, self loathing, guilt, shame, depression... She has explored her darkness and it's palette of sentiments - the psychiatrist insisted it was good for her to feel, so she felt. She knows the trumbling of nerves, the sweat of anxiety, the clunching of stomach when facing her inner demons.

However it is the first time her body behave as strongly without a darkness trigering it. It is the opposite. It is a new set of emotions she just started to discover with Laura and the kids. Natasha recognises it, at least, there is a correlation, a similarity of sort. What she is feeling right now, in the lockerroom with Maria standing at the door, resembles what she feels when at the farm with the Barton family. Only it's more intense, overwhelming. Scary.

Natasha needs to talk to Laura about this. She is too lost to face that on her own.

She knows that even in the middle of the night she is always welcomed at the Barton's. She can settle on the couch and drink a warm cup of tea with Laura, listening to the kids playing outside. They call her aunt. Laura says she is like a sister to Clint. They are her family.

It took her a long time to accept it.

Her boot still at hand, Natasha calculates. The farm is too far now, with the debriefing schelduled at 0830am. There is no time to go there, explain and come back. Even after three years visiting the family almost every week, Natasha still needs a lot of time and silent conversation before she can find the words to express what she feels. Laura's ever lasting patience and gentle smile is like a cocoon for Natasha. Sometimes they can stay long hours just sitting on the couch or in the garden, before Natasha starts to speak at last, Laura softly helping her along the way.

She doesn't have the time. She'd have to go there after the debriefing, if no one drops an other mission on her lap first. If it happens, she'll play the injury card. It isn't like her to refuse an assignment, and certainly not like her to admit being incapacitated, but this can't wait. She knows herself enough to know that if she lets this feeling spread without assistance she'll eventualy slip out while on the field. This could be very dangerous, not only for her, but for her team, for Clint. She cannot lose her composture because she is discovering a new level about herself she didn't know she had.

There is movement behind her, a shift of fabric. Commander Hill must have uncrossed her arms. Natasha can perfectly imagine how she puts her hands on her hips now. If the Commander moved it means it wouldn't take long for her to -

'I would like to dress your wound. If you let me.'

Her tone is firm but wavering too. Unconfortable. Somehow, knowing Maria's disconfort reassures Natasha a litte. She isn't alone feeling unbalanced by the turn their relationship is doing.

Relationship. She doesn't know what kind it is, but it isn't about the agency. It is about them, Maria and Natasha.

Natasha turns her head slightly to the side and nods. She doesn't look at Maria. Then Maria walks to her and she feels the distance between them disapear. The warm, steady presence of the woman standing right behind her back elicits a shiver in her body. She knows there are goosebumps on her skin, and Maria hasn't even touch her. She should be ambarassed, but oddly she isn't. She is too engrossed by the feeling in her chest and in her belly to care about apparencies.

When slend fingers caress her neck, she closes her eyes. Her body immediatly relaxes to the touch. Still bending with her elbows on her knees, she faces the ground, exposing her shoulder blade. Her slightly damp red hair draw a curtain to the right side of her face, she cannot hide behind it while Maria stands close to her left shoulder. The woman's fingerstips slide on the shape of her neck before the flat of the hand settles. It is an unecessary touch, they both know it, but Natasha is grateful Maria allows herself this liberty.

Her touch is soothing and electrifying at the same time.

Her eyes still closed – she knows she is hiding herself but she really feels exposed and confused right now - Natasha tilts her head to the right, inviting Maria to continue her daring exploration. When Maria complies, fingers gently moving along her skin to the base of her skull, then down to the start of her shoulder blade, she sighs. She doesn't hide the little sound of content, she wants Maria to know. To know that it's okay, that she likes it. That she wants it.

They remain silent.

Maria continues stroking her pale skin and steps a little closer. Natasha senses her front near her back and sighs again, almost moan, a small grin stretching her lips. It feels nice to be so at ease with someone. So intimate.

The fingers finally reach the edge of her injury. Maria doesn't break contact when she takes the cream from the bench. She works slowly, taking her time, again not because of thorough efficiency but because she wants this moment to last. They both are expert at dressing wounds in seconds, but it isn't about that now.

Natasha's smile grows when she thinks about how Maria came to take care of her injury. She didn't ask if Natasha needed help to apply her bandage, because she knew she would say no. Natasha doesn't need help to do anything, she has been raised to do everything on her own, stitching her wounds included. Maria told her she wanted to do it. She wanted to do it for her. To take care of her.

The warmth spreads more in Natasha's chest.

The cold cream is set now, Maria is appleying the gauze. There is only the noises of the medical supplies filling the room. Soon it will be over.

Natasha feels the compress, the fingers putting it in place all arround the cuts, and it's done. She feels Maria's fingers hesitate then, sliding to her neck once more, caressing skin in a lingering move, before leaving her. The touch is ended but the warmth stays burning all over Natasha, in and out. Natasha doesn't move just yet, she savours the feeling.

Maria soundlessly steps back, retreats to the doorframe once more. The space between them is disturbing and welcome all the same. They need time to adjust this. The Commander doesn't say anything and Natasha doesn't have to turn to know she is standing with her previous stance, arms crossed on her chest. Maybe is she eyeing the floor though, avoiding her.

No, she isn't. Natasha feels her gaze on her back, caressing her from afar. She probably enjoys the possibility to stare while she can, while Natasha doesn't call her out.

Natasha wont call her out though.

Natasha is used to feel eyes on her, she is used to be desired. She was design for it. She is the Black Widow, using her sex appeal to lure her prew. She was programmed to sense when anyone give her even a hint of attention, from a child to an old person, man or woman, it didn't matter. She was trained to use the attraction they feel as a weakness to exploit.

But Maria staring at her feels completely different.

Natasha isn't indifferent to it like she always is from everyone. She isn't immediatly planing how to use it at her advantage like she would on a mission. She isn't becoming cold either, like she does when other SHIELD agents, man or woman co-workers alike, start to look a little too much too long, sending them a chilling warning gaze of her own to cut their fantasy short. Instead, she welcomes it.

She likes to sense Maria's eyes on her, envelopping her like a warm blanket. It feeds her trembling in her belly. It is a new feeling, but Natasha likes it.

So she doesn't say anything when she finally puts her boot at her foot. She takes her time standing up, grabbing her shirt and slowly sliding her arms to the hools. She pauses just a moment for Maria to have a final glimpse before she finishes to dress, fabric hiding the upper part of her body. She is dressed in casual civilian clothes, simple black jean and green sleeveless shirt with a hint of cleavage. She frees her hair from under her top, leaves them falling on her back. They'll dry by themselves.

She looks at the clock. It's almost 0500am now. The only option is to go to her bunk and wait. She will not sleep. Clint's easy company would have been welcome if he weren't at the farm. She usualy share the segment with him. Now she'll just be alone with her thoughts and try no do drown in them. She looks up and sighs.

'If you can't sleep...'

Maria's voice hangs in the lockerroom. For the first time since she arrived, Natasha looks at her then, an eyebrow raised.

'Maybe reading could help ? '

The Commander's strong composture doesn't show her disconfort, only the slight trembling of her voice does. She still hold Natasha's gaze when she adds.

'Nothing heavy or boring though. I personaly prefer light reading, mostly books written for teens. Easy. Like Harry Potter for exemple. '

She clears her throat. The Commander surely never would have seen herself disclosing such private information to anyone. Natasha is stunned too.

'It's just a suggestion... Reading can help, living in someone else's skin, in an other univers. ' She shrugs. 'Maybe you could fall asleep on your book and hopefully only dream about the story.'

Natasha guesses Maria to must be visited by nightmares. She wonders what darkness haunts the Commander's mind.

'I never tried that ' she says instead.

She is intrigued now. The idea of reading something else than reports or classified documents to be steal or sold never crossed her mind before. To read fiction. She tilts her head to the side.

'Is there a library here ?'

Her determined expression brings a smile on Maria's lips. The sight is beautiful. It is the first time Natasha sees Maria fully smile. It is rare to see the woman crack a small grin even in a light situation, she is always on Commander mode, guard up. But not now. Now she is smiling for real, looking at Natasha with bright blue eyes.

Beautiful.

Natasha's eyes caress her face, burning the image into her. She wants to see more of Marias's smiles. The heat in her chest sends chills to her brain.

She doesnt realise she is walking to Maria until the smile fades slowly. The Commander tenses a little and Natasha spots moving. They are three feet apart.

Maria averts her eyes and clears her throat, uncrosses her arms.

'There is, actually. The library is next door to the gym.'

She breaks her stance and steps back, a smirk on her face.

'It's been there for years but i rarely see any agent using it. I suppose facing a choice between the two doors a good work out always wins out.'

'Maybe you should put a sign on the door'

' _There is_ a sign on the door'

'Oh'

'Exactly'

The tension Natasha didn't realise was there from the start slowly dissipates.

'I'll spread the word around' she smirks to the Commander.

Maria actually laughs at that.

'You do that'

She shakes her head from left to right, a small grin on her face. It is obvious to everyone on board, how the Commander cares for her agents.

'I should go' Maria says stepping fully out of the door frame, in the corridor. 'I still have work to do. I avoided it long enough' She smiles at Natasha again, her eyes soft for a moment.

It feels like this smile is different, like it is only for Natasha, both teasing and caring. Natasha smiles back at her.

'You should sleep' she chances, not daring to call the Commander by her first name again, she feels shy for some reason.

'I already slept this morning thank's to you'

The Deputy Director crocks an eyebrow to her, not quite reprimanding but close enough. Natasha sees the teasing smile on the edge of her lips, though.

'I don't know what you're talking about, Commander ' she answers with a high eyebrow of her own. She can't keep the smile from showing. Since when does she have a hard time to control her body's movement ?

Maria answers her by letting her own smile slip, the same mixture of teasing-caring.

'Uhu' is all she says.

She is about to turn around and leave when Natasha calls her again.

'You should sleep, Maria'

Natasha is serious now, her face shows probably a little bit of concern. She doesn't like seeing Maria exerting herself like she has been doing. Maria seems to sense her change of mood. She just watches Natasha for a silent moment before sighing softly.

'I am chosing an assistant, Natasha'

She smiles her small smile, the one Natasha knows deep own is only for her from now on, but the teasing side of it is gone, leaving only the caring part. Soft.

'That's the only thing i will do tonight' she assures, her blues eyes promising.

Natasha eyes her a second. She better mean it.

Maria watches how Natasha isn't going to take any bullshit from her, how Natasha actually talk to her on even ground, completely disregarding her rank.

The smile stretching Maria's lips then , more fully with her eyes wild from disbelief, is enough to make Natasha nod her consent.

'Okay'

Their eyes still locked, Maria slowly nods back, her smile never leaving her face.

'Okay'

Then the Commander walks out.

/

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A/N

It is actually the first time i take the time to describe a slow burn in my writting, shifting inch by inch into romance. The falling in love part is beautiful, after all.

To be honest i was a little desappointed of myself for not doing it with Lexa and Clarke on the 'Can we take a break' story. So, sorry about that. I'll do better next Clexa story ^^

Reviews are always appreciated !

;o)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Maria slept three hours, no dreams, no nightmares, the blank rest of a quick nap. When the alarm goes off she grunts and stires in the sheets. For a few minutes she is peacefull almost, and she knows it is the after effects of Natasha. If she closes her eyes she can relive the softness of her skin under her fingerstips, the velvet of her hair curving in all directions in the back of her shirt, the green of the fabric enhancing the color of her captivating eyes...

Maria knows what it is now, the effect Natasha Romanoff has on her. She is hooked.

She likes her. She feels easy and normal with her. Safe. Not safe in a tactical mission harm kind of way, but safe in the quiet of their exchange. There is an understanding between them that Maria never shared with anyone before. They don't have to speak, to fill the silence, they are at ease in the quiet. They don't even have to look at each other for knowing how the other will act, what mood she is in. Maria didn't remark it before now, but she has always been able to read Natasha on some level, even when she was keeping her cards close to her chest, hiding under a neutral mask.

Of course, it is part of any spy job, further more it is part of the Deputy Director's job to assess her agents's state of work, but somewhere along the line, Maria developed a special and invisible link with Natasha, one she didn't even know existed before yesterday.

She is lying on her bed, scanning the chronology of they past encounters with new eyes. She remembers watching Natasha join the group after the battle in the helicarrier when Loki escaped their custody. When Coulson died. Maria remembers how particulary in tune she was with Natasha's emotional state. The woman was closed off, but she had sense how lost and broken she was inside. Still, being the Deputy Director she had no time to support one agent when the Tesserract was about to bring hell on Earth.

She remembers witnessing bits and pieces of scenes over the years, never being part of it, she was a silent spectator watching over her with a hint of concern and care she didn't have for her other agents, but she never analysed it until now.

She thinks Natasha never suspected it either. From her behavior it was clear from day one that Agent Romanoff respected Agent Hill, trusted her professional judgement and saw her as a perfect machine soldier, nothing more. Aside from their mission related interactions, Maria had no place in the woman's personal world. Maria wonders when that changed, because never before Agent Romanoff would have stopped by her office to spontaniously take care of her.

Maria has no idea when the Russian started to see her as more than an efficient soldier. Maybe one day she'll know, for now it doesn't matter.

She is stretching lazely on her mattress, and she choses to relive much recent events. She brings her fingerstips to her lips. She is actually surprised by her own boldness, touching Natasha like that in the lockerroom, but when the woman had move her head to the side, giving her better access to her neck all her doubts had vanish in seconds. Her hand had move with certainty, stroking skin as if her fingers belonged there. It was amazing.

A daydreaming Commander... That wont do.

Maria allows herself one more moment in memory land, then puts her usual guard up and gets out of bed. As commanding officer she has her personal bathroom attached to the bedroom, and she takes good use of it. After puting on her neat uniform and arranging her hair in a bun, she heads to her office next door, starts her coffee machin and waits for her fix. She is just sipping the last of her mug when there is a nock at her door.

Maria glances at the clock on the wall above the office couch. 0800am. May's team is perfectly on time for debrief. Nothing surprising from the Cavalry. Commander Hill doesn't leave her spot, standing in front of the window wall facing the ocean. The helicarrier is sailing on the Atlantic for now. There is an exploration team searching the abyss for an ancient relic which apparently, according to the Doctor Zikwik Barton and Romanoff retrieved two days ago in Switzerland, is part of a mystic cult ritual aiming to call upon a god of apocalyptic powers. SHIELD is in a race to recover the artefact before the fanatics of the mystic society do. Knowing how the Asgardian's gods are not _just_ a legend but are actually very real and very powerfull people, Maria doesn't want a repeat of New York anytime soon. Never. Who knows what kind of mystical very real god this object would bring. Again.

It is a neverending job, keeping the planet safe, safe from outside alien threats, safe from it's own human inhabitants looking for... basic destruction out of pure madness ? Honestly the world would be such a sweet environnement if not for all the stupidity flying around with giant egos. Maria can't help but see the cummun point between all the disruptives of peace. Whatever the species, whatever the time in History, it is the male's need for power and ego boost that always bring the horror and chaos.

She shakes her head and sighs. Thinking about it doesn't change anything. Still, she is grateful to be the second in command of SHIELD, for she already had to do interference with Nick, a lot, sometimes to a yelling level close to fighting fists, to make him come down from his high horses. She isn't the obedient soldier she once was before Loki. If she had step up more then, maybe the catastrophy of New York wouldn't have happen. As it is now, she cannot rewrite the past, but she is glad Fury lets her at her post and accepts her harsh remarks. They are bickering a lot, but their friendship is strong and unwavering.

At the end of the day, they make a good team. When he doesn't play dead or sneak outp to develop a project on the side. She keeps a close eye on him, as close as she can do while managing the agency.

Her job is tiring. She desperatly needs some time off.

'Enter'

She says it loud enough for her agents to hear through the massively armed door. The smooth sound of the sliding door preceds the arrival of the four women. They fill into the room in a neat line. Maria can see their reflection in the glass. She indulges in the view one last time. She always loved the colors of the morning sky. Then she turns around, faces her agents with a nod of salute before walking to her desk. As soon as she is sitted, May breaks her formal stance and joins her to the chair in front of the desk, while the three women stays at attention behind her.

'Report'

Commander Hill's strong voice rings in the office. It is just a formality. She was present on the main desk during the operation yesterday, she heard everything unfold and they already used the intel to move the helicarrier to the coordonates. Still, it is protocol.

Agent May leans in and gives her the file she brought with her. Maria knows the Agent to be thorow and her methodical handwritting – something she cannot says for everybody, unfortunately -, all the details of the mission are in there, with pictures and documents as added bonuses. If only all of her agents had the same efficiency...

'Everything went according to plan. We retrieved the data, destroyed the hardware and facilities.' Maria is flipping through the report while listening to Melinda. 'But there is more. Daisy found an other lead while she was there.'

Agent May turns her head slightly to the side, and Agent Johnson continues the exposé.

'I saw a list hiden in their network. A hit list. A lot of our agents are on it. They had locations and a lot of informations on all of them.' She pauses, her chin high, the posture of obedience and respect. The girl went a long way from her days at the Rising Tide. She is a good agent now, reliable under May's guidance.

'Did you get the list ?'

'No, Commander. There was no time left. I barely had the time to collect the coordonates of the artefact before everything got hot.'

Well fuck. She doesn't like the sound of that.

'So, you're saying this fanatics are on to us ?'

'I believe they are, yes.' Daisy's voice is resolute.

Maria clenches her jaw.

'Do you remember any names on this list ?'

'Again, sir, i only had a quick look. What i recalled i immediatly wrote down.'

She points to the folder on the Commander's desk. Maria turns the pages and finaly finds what looks like the photocopy of a napkin with two names written on it. Carter, Coulson.

'Is that all you have ?' Maria tries not to raise her voice.

'Yes' the agent answers shippish. 'I read their file on Coulson and they had the right adress, his cell number and some recent transcripts of phone conversations. It all lines up.'

Fuck. This is major security breach.

'Does Coulson knows about this ?' Maria asks May.

According to protocol all the intel must come through the Deputy Director first. She is the one deciding who gets the clearance to which information. Melinda is a reliable agent, but she is also loyal to Phil.

'I only told him to stay on the ship tonight, and to not go anywhere until his briefing with you.'

'Good'

Maria pinches her nose and takes a deep breath.

'Alright. Agent May, i want you on this. Make out the team you want, choose the best of our tech agents, contact even Stark if you need to. I want our entire system scanned. Find me this security breach, this takes priority. Cut their supply and if you can, find them.' She puts her hands flat on the desk. 'I don't have to tell you the emergency of this.'

Melinda nods and gets up in one fluid motion, already heading to the door. Quake is furiously taping on her phone while the rest of the team fallow their handler out.

As soon as she door slides back, Maria breaks her straight composture and sags on her chair. Security breach. This is uge and extremly alarming. She didn't thought those fanatics were able to do that. If they have Coulson's name and accurate informations, a level 8 agent no less, they probably have much more. This is dangerous.

For a moment Maria moves to the com button, but she changes her mind. Before giving any orders she'll listen to Coulson's team and see if there is more to it.

She doesn't have to wait long. When Coulson nocks at 0830am she calls for him to enter. He, Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff stand before her at attention, both former assassins in SHIELD uniform, Phil in his suit. He is the only one getting away with it. Fury has a soft spot for him.

'Report'

As usual Coulson gives her the file and sits on the chair May was in minutes ago. Barton and Romanoff go for the couch, each on opposite side. It isn't long before Clint starts drumming his fingers on his thigh, making Natasha tense and send his warning vibes. It is always the same with them, like a routine circus.

'The mission went without too much trouble.'

They hear Hawkeye snorts but ignore him.

'Agent Romanoff successfully went in with her cover, got inside the vault and eliminated the target. The group doesn't have any financial support anymore'

Maria nods, looking at the details in the fold. Coulson's handwritting is readable.

'As for the lab part, it wasn't planned but we managed.' He shrugs with a casual tone.

By that he means Natasha took care of the three men guarding it, getting hurt in the process, before setting the place on fire in an 'accident' having nothing to do with clumsyness during the fight but everything to do with Natasha hating lab environnement. They had to cover it with a 'domestic fire' story poped out of their hat and crossed their fingers hoping it would to the trick. They managed, as Coulson puts it, and it is true. Knowing this two bickering on the couch, it could have been worst.

Maria doesn't comment as she scans the pictures taken by the small camera of Romanoff's pendant. The room under the vault wasn't in the house's scheme. She'll have consultants looking at those images. They need to know what they are up to, and they need to know fast.

Maria has a bad feeling about all of this.

'Alright, anything else ?'

'No, Commander'

'May told you to stay on the ship, do you know why ?'

'No, but of course i am curious.'

He doesn't push. He knows Maria will tell him eventualy. He is her closest adviser, after all, and her friend from many years.

The Commander closes the file, puts it on top of May's.

'Agent Barton, agent Romanoff, you are dismist for now. No assignment until further notice. Agent Coulson, you stay.'

The two friends stand smoothly, bumping the cushions on the couch unceremoniously. They were just starting a fighting match. Maria can't help but roll her eyes at them while the move to the door. Barton goes out first, happy face in place at the idea of free time and family, no doubt, Natasha lingers just a little. She chances a glance in Maria's direction and Maria takes it. For a moment they just look at each other, concern written on Natasha's face as she can read the worry in Maria. Maria smiles her soft smile at her and Natasha answers in kin before leaving.

Maria's gaze stays on the closed door, her mind already running possible scenarios. Being only with Phil in the room she allows herself to sigh and collapse on her chair.

'We have a problem'

/

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A/N

Okay so i didn't plan that at all but i'll roll with it.

Just so you know, i put my nose on the Marvel chronology of events and it got me a headache – seriously it didn't come to that but you get the sentiment. So i chose to not care about the background and accurate chronology and facts. I'll try to stay close to it but it still will be slightly AU to serve the story and characters developpement.

Enjoy !


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Natasha is riding her bike, heading to the farm. They've been dismissed thristy minutes ago. She is wearing civilian clothes – the same outfit she wore yesterday, black jean, green t-shirt and boots securing her ankles, plus her lather jaker. It is a warm summer outside. She managed for an aircraft to drop her close enough to make it quickly to the farm, she hasn't time to waste.

She wasn't even sure if it was a good idea to leave, after all. Natasha remembers how tense Maria was before they left the office. This time it wasn't her usual guard and officer façade, it was more. Something is happening that makes the Commander edgy.

Right after leaving the debriefing Natasha had exchanged a look with Clint. His face was serious. He felt the same. Of course it could be nothing. Or it could be something big about to blow up in their face. In their line of work, it wouldn't be the first time.

Standing in the corridor Natasha had asked Clint to stay and keep an eye on the Commander for her, to make sure nothing happens to her. She knew he wouldn't be happy playing bodyguard on his day off, but she made sure he understood the importance of her request. He saw it.

Clint had look at her, really look, his playing side gone. A growing smile had spread on his mouth. If the situation was different, she knows he would have make a happy dance. He didn't say anything, stopped smiling and adopted a guarding stance.

'I will'

That is the only reason Natasha is able to be out there now.

The farm is in sight, she speeds up with a roaring boost of the engin. Laura will know she is here. She stops the bike two feet from the porch's stairs in a cloud of dust, takes out her black helmet and smoothly slides off the vehicule. She barely has time to put her helmet down when Cooper and Lila comes around the house giggling.

'Aunt Tasha !'

They are running arms extended, ready to jump on her. Natasha smiles at the usual greeting, drops a knee on the ground and opens her arms wide. The kids collide with her, laughing, their grown limbs grabbing her back in a welcome hug. Natasha closes her eyes to savour the instant. She loves those welcoming hugs.

'Welcome home'

Laura's sweet voice greets her from her place on the porch, with the same words she used when they first met, when Clint abducted Natasha one day without saying anything, only asking her to trust him. She did. After nine months of deprogramming and two years of teaming up with Barton, practicly glued to his side days and nights, she had develop a special link with him. A friendship. He was the only one she really trusted. So when he just grabbed her one summer day like today, and drove all the way here telling her jokes to pass the time, she had smile the small smile she was learning to express for real, not faking, and enjoyed the view.

Since that day, Laura always greets her the same way : welcome home.

Natasha hugs the children a little bit harder. She knows there are tears in her eyes, but she doesn't hide them. In all the time she spend with the family they all became accustomed to seeing her cry from time to time. The kids stopped asking why a long time ago, giving her hugs and sloppy kisses on the cheek instead, falling asleep on her lap sometimes while watching a cartoon on the couch.

They are her family.

'Hi' she smiles her shy smile, the one just for them. She learned to leave her armor at the door when coming here. She learned to show her true self, her soft and compassionnate self with them, leaving the fighter and survivor outside. They are her safe place.

'It is good to see you Natasha'

Natasha laughs at that. She visited just last week. She is here so often that she has her own very comfy sofa bed waiting for her in the corner of the living room, spare clothes, blanket and pillow in a chest she uses as a bedside table. This house is more home to her than her appartement is.

'It is good to see you too'

The hug ends and Laura sends the kids to their tree house behind the house.

'I want Natasha to myself' she says with a wink.

It is a rare occasion when Natasha visits without Clint. Laura must sense she isn't dropping by for small talk. 'Tea ?' she offers her. It is their code for 'intimate conversations time'.

'Yes, please'

'Sit, Natasha, i will be right back.' Laura is already heading to the kitchen when she adds. 'Nathaniel is in his park, if you want to say hi'

Even after six months, Natasha isn't used to the baby's name. Clint had shave her shoulder when he told her his son's name the first time, saying he'll be as stubburn as his aunt with a name like that. As fierce and caring too, he added. He had cry and hugged her that day. He told her he loved her. He called her sister.

She had been speachless and stunned for a second, then she had hugged him back, hard. They stayed long minutes like that then he had stepped back and say 'His name is Nathaniel, Tasha, deal with it' With a smirk he throwed an arm on her shoulders and took her for drinks.

Natasha walks in the living room. The baby is currently sitted on the ground, chatting – bubbling – with a plastic dynosaur half chewed and glistening. The kid is a drooling machin. He is smacking the toy to the ground now when he spots her. His chubby face lights up and he drops everything, tiny hands toward her with what Natasha guesses it a cry of joy. He waves his hands in the air and Natasha walks to him, eyeing the area. Here it is. She catches the towel and kneels down in front of him.

'Hey Nathaniel'

He answers with a giggle when she starts rubbing the cloth on his hands and face meticulously. He watches her and waits. They have a ritual. Cleaning before hugging.

'Okay baby' she nods seriously. She spreads the towel on her shoulder just in case and goes to grab him. Immediatly the infant squeals in delight, clapping his little hand to her face while Natasha settles him against her chest.

It amazes her still, the way it became natural for her to be with the child.

Getting up from the ground she walks out on the porch. It is a beautiful summer day. Natasha choses the rocking chair and starts rocking gently, humming an improvised melody. The baby likes it when she does that. He puts the side of his head flat on her chest and listens to the vibration of her voice. His little hand grabs her shirt and he is settled.

Few minutes goes by when Laura appears with a tray. She puts it on the table and gives a mug to Natasha.

'Thank's'

The mother sits on the wooden bench, crosses her legs in an indian fashion and sips quietly. She waits.

Natasha drinks the tea a little so the liquid doesn't spread out, then starts rocking again. Nathaniel is fast asleep on her. She looks at the massive mapple tree in the front yard, she likes the shape of the leaves. Comes the fall it will become an explosion of colors.

She is humming again. She is thinking of something else now, of the quiet of the gym in the middle of the night, of brown hair and blue eyes. She feels the tremble in her belly again.

She stops humming. She stops rocking.

'I feel something... new'

In the silent, she searches for her words.

'New ?'

'Yes. It is... When i see her, when i touch her, when she touches me... Even when i think about her, apparently. I feel...'

She struggles with the words. Laura sips on her tea.

'It is warm in my chest, here.' She points above her breast. 'My heartrate increases a little and my body starts sweating. I... When we talk i can't help but smile at her, even when there is nothing to smile about.' She is on a rant now 'I feel clumsy when i am around her, clumsy ! I am a spy, i am an expert at moving in the shadows, i control every movement of my body, but when i am with her, i am...'

'Clumsy'

'Yes' she sighs, frustrated.

The baby awakes. He is not happy about the increase of movement coming from his selfappointed pillow. Natasha seizes the opportunity to dislodge him softly before holding him for Laura to take. She is becoming restless.

'Look at me ! My body is behaving out of my control. It is new, and disturbing, and...'

'You don't like it.'

'No ! I don't like it, i don't...' she trails off. Her mind brings her to the lockerroom. She doesn't realise that she is smiling now, her body relaxed. Laura chuckles beside her.

'Well, to me it doesn't look like you hate it.' she teases.

Natasha is so confused. She hangs her head between her hands, defeated.

'Tasha'

Laura's voice is soft. It's her turn to speak now.

'What you are feeling is confusing, i know. It is awkward and not pleasant for some part. You feel like a fool, stupid and clumsy, you lose your wit, you lose your words, sometimes you also lose your footing. It is all unerving and _scary_. Underneath all the clumsyness there is an underlying fear. The fear of falling.'

Laura drops a kiss on her son's forhead before putting him on a large cushion on the ground. She turns her full attention to Natasha.

'What you are feeling Natasha, is the first stage. It doesn' last, trust me. It is scary, it makes you want to run in the opposite direction. Don't. Believe me Natasha, don't. What you are feeling for her is beautiful and _rare_. It is worth the disconfort.'

Natasha's lost expression doesn't fade, but she is listening.

'What your are feeling right now, it will change. The clumsyness will pass, i promise. Then you will realise that you are more at ease with her than you have ever been with anyone before. Being with her will be as natural as breathing.'

Laura's brown eyes are firm when she takes Natasha's hand and squezze.

'Hang on to it, Natasha.'

Natasha nods slowly.

'But why do i feel this way ?'

Laura's brigth smile is blinding.

'I am so happy for you ! ' She squeals, jumping on her feet like Lila would, bringing her hands to her mouth. She takes a deep breath to calm herself before locking eyes with her friend.

'What you are feeling for her, it is what i feel about Clint.'

Oh.

Natasha's mouth falls open. Laura chuckles a little.

'Yeah' she winks playfully.

Natasha stops beathing, frozen. She blinks, recovers. Does that mean that...

'I thought i couldn't feel... that. That this part of me was broken.'

Her mind is sending her to the Red Room, to her training.

'Hey, hey, hey, Natasha'

Laura's concern face appears in front of her. The woman is kneeling, a hand catching her chin forcing her to look at her. She is on the patio, she isn't there.

'You _are_ able to love, Natasha. You know that. Look at the kids, look at Clint. I see you with them, i see you with me. You are soft, caring, loving. You know how to love now, i saw you learn more and more everytime you come here. Look who you are now, today, and who you were when you first arrived, look at the difference.'

Laura's grip is firm, her tone clearly says that Natasha better not interupt her.

'What you are feeling for her is just an other step. You are capable to love more and more, Natasha, you are full of love waiting to be expressed.'

She pauses.

'And you are deserving to be loved too.'

She doesn't wait for Natasha to answer. They are both crying when Laura envelops her in her arms. They stay in the embrace for a while, then Natasha's coarse voice says 'Thank you'

She is replaying Laura's words in her head.

 _'What you are feeling for her, it is what i feel about Clint.'_

/

Natasha spends the rest of the day with them, playing with the kids. Laura joins them. They are laughing and Natasha realises that yes, she did learn how to love them. She knows how to love, she just never used that word to go with the feeling she was having with them.

' You are capable to love more and more'

Natasha feels alighted, and she doesn't stop smiling all day. It is a good day.

One time while playing with Lila and Cooper, Laura randomly says 'I love you' to Natasha. At first, Natasha is baffled and doesn't know what to make of it, but Laura just smiles and winks, picks up Nathaniel and goes gardening.

The second time it happens, Natasha grins shyly.

The third time, right around after diner when the kids finish brushing their teeth, she says it again and asks. 'Lila, Cooper ? Do you love your aunt Natasha ?'

The children immediatly jump yelling 'Yeeeees !'

'Well, why don't you tell her then ?'

Natasha's eyes go wide. Laura chuckles and starts yelling with them.

'I love you ! I love you ! I love you !'

They are dancing around a stunned Natasha still sitted on her diner chair. Laura pushes the table to make place for their circle to turn around her friend properly then instructs.

'Okay kids ! On my count. 1, 2, 3 ! ' She lanches herself to Natasha for a bear hug, Cooper and Lila giggling to do the same. It is all a mess of limbs and laugh and Natasha grabs them back and laughs with them.

Here, in the secluded place in the middle of their embrace, Natasha's small voice dares say the words.

'I love you'

It is a whisper in ears, but they hear it loud and clear. Natasha's eyes are shut tight.

'Thank you' Laura says in the quiet of their hug.

Natasha starts crying.

They stay in the position a little longer, the kids don't ask why their aunt is crying. They stopped asking a long time ago and just hug her more.

Finally Laura distangles herself, clears her throat with a smile.

'Time to sleep'

'Nooooo ! ' Cooper starts clinging to Natasha with pleading eyes, stumping his foot.

Lila joins in. 'I'm not sleepy !'

Natasha laughs at the show, ruffles their heads. She is glad she has find them, her family. Her peace.

'It's too bad' she muses with a grin. 'I was hoping you could read a new story with me, something about a magic school -'

'YEAH !'

Cooper is on his feet, catching her wrist and struggling to make her stand. Lila mimicks her brother and grabs the other hand to help. Natasha makes herself heavy, spread on her chair while the kids try to make her move.

'Let's gooooo !' Lila's demanding voice rings.

Laura lets them burn their energy a moment content to see a Natasha not moving, clearly repressing a laugh, yelling 'Help me up ! Help me up !'

Finally she claps her hands, motherly tone in place.

'Natasha, Cooper, Lila. Bed, now'

With her hands on her hips she is as fierce as Commander Hill. Natasha smiles at that, her mind flying to the woman, butterflies flopping in her belly. She understands the metaphor now.

Laura quircks an eyebrow at her and smirks.

'Let's go, auntyty Tasha ! ' Lila says.

Natasha shakes herself out of her daydream and stands up.

'Alright, let's go, what are you waiting for ?'

Lila rolls her eyes at her before running to her room.

'No running in the house !' Laura yells at her.

'No yelling in the house ! ' Natasha yells at Laura, a smirk showing.

Laura laughs and slaps her arm with an exagerated sigh before looking at her son.

'Cooper, you heard me'

'What story ?' The boy asks his face serious.

Natasha walks to the backpack she left on her couch when she arrived. She grabs the book and starts going for the stairs leading to the bedroom Cooper and Lila share.

'You'll just have to come and see' she winks.

He takes off after her.

'No running Cooper !'

Laura's defeated voice makes Natasha laugh.

/

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A/N

Thank's for your reviews !


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Maria always feels a little odd, going back to her appartement. After so many years in the service, first joining the army then joining with SHIELD when Fury came for her, the civil life seems a foreign concept to her. She feels awkward. She limits her interactions to 'hello', 'thank you', 'have a good day' with a nod and a hint of a smile she hopes is genuine. She tries. But she doesn't belong in this world anymore.

Still, it is nice to come back to it sometimes, if only to remind herself why she is doing her job for. Maria is protecting all of those people, who are going around with their life clueless about the underlying world where she thrives in the shadows. They don't know how precarious their easy lives are, it's a blessing they all give them, to not feel the burden that comes with keeping them safe. Maria is working for them all, for their nice life, their easy smile and their futur. She reminds herself that. Even if she herself doesn't belong in civilian life and probably never did, she comes back to her appartement in Boston every now and then just to live alongside of regular people. It helps her to remember that beyond the never ending spying, handling and manipulating, beyond the fighting and sometimes killing, there is a goal to achieve. Protecting human kind, sometimes from itself, sometimes from aliens.

Also, she comes back to her place to check in on her spa time – believe it of not she actually owns a member card of the facility - and her nap time, preferably doing both at the same time, dozzing off while lying in a bench in hot steam with the scent of essential oils being rubbed on her back...

Fury and Coulson are both at the helicarrier, ready to handle heavy situations, while her _new assistant_ is dealing with unurgent paperwork and such. She can allow some precious time off and she intends to enjoy every minute of it.

Maria just came down from the pod that dropt her off from the hellicarier, took a detour, bought some basic groceries with a tight smile to the cashier – it always takes her some adjustement to really smile while off duty. Finally she opens the door of her appartement, and she leaves it all there.

Bags of food are spread in the kitchen counter uncarringly, same fate for her duffle bag full of her clothes and necessary stuff. She doesn't unpack anything, she doesn't have much and she doesn't care, she is not a material person. All she cares about right now is heading for the back pack waiting for her in the corner of her living room, already full with towel, novel, ipod and swimming suit. She grabs the item, her keys, and is already one foot out in the doorway when she hears is. The click sound of an automatic weapon.

Deputy Director Maria Hill isn't paranoid nor is she a fighting maniac. She doesn't live for the conflict, but she still unknowledges its possibility at all times. Like today.

She doesn't have time to bent and retrieve her hidden gun strapped at her right ankle. She doesn't have time to do much except jump inside her appartement when the grenade comes flying at her hard. Maria briefly registers the bizarre aspect of the projectile shining a green colored light, files this information for later, lays flat on the kitchen floor and covers her head for the explosion. The blast is strong and shatters everything arround her, making her ears ring. On the moment she feels numb on her left side. She's going to bruise for a week after this. Her whole left side hurts while her whole body feels tingly, and there is blue in her vision. She knows this phenomenom and doesn't linger on it, she focuses and makes it discret. Now is not the time to point out her position to her enemies. She grittes her teeth and swallows the hurt, blinking out the dust, ignoring the ringing in her brain. She tries to find balance, fast, assessening her options in heartbeats. She knows the attackers are at the corner, about to rain bullets on her.

Maria's training knows the procedure. She needs an extraction team immediatly.

She rolls on her back as noiselessly as possible, ignoring her injuries and coming headach for now. She's bledding somewhere on her face and her left wrist is burning, but it will have to wait. She'll assess her condition after making her phone call, going for her gun and taking cover, in that order. She snatches her phone out of her bra with her valid hand and presses the button. Help is on it's way. The JPS tracker is telling them where she is and she knows it won't be long for the rescue to show up.

She'll have to stall and hide until they come.

A lot can happen in the maybe twenty minutes or more it could take for SHIELD to retrieve her. She can't stay here, a sitting duck waiting. She swallows her pain and glances at the floor. Her blood drooping from her eyebrow down her chin gives her away, the hiding option is off then. Even with her left side injuried she still can move her leg and arm though, it will do. In three efficient moves she has her gun in her right hand, a kitchen knife in her right, her earpiece phone in place, she clicks to the side.

'Extract team coming in thirteen, Commander'

She taps the com multiples times with practise ease, saying she adknowledges the info. Maria prefers not to talk and uses morse code as everyone in SHIELD knows. As they also know she only wants the essential informations, nothing more.

'How many attackers ?'

Good, the man handling her seems to be efficient enough. At this point, Maria is glad the agent talking to her isn't a new clumsy recruit eager to make his mark. She taps the earphone.

'Unknow'

She is hidding behind the counter dividing the kitchen and the living room. Crounched down as much as her wounds allow, she slides the blade in the belt of her jeans and sneak a peak. The smoke is only fading, the grenade exploded seconds ago and the attacking team hasn't made it's move. It is strange but not surprising either, they are attacking the head of SHIELD after all, they must take precautions.

At that point, Maria doesn't know what to expect. It could be one individual working alone, two, three or fifteen... There could be snippers on the roof accross the street waiting to take her out once she goes for the ladder. There could be an other grenade thrown for good measure. If they want her dead, that is. Because she is the Deputy Director of SHIELD, she knows she has value both dead or alive. If they wanted her dead they would have hit a different way, much quicker and quieter too. A good shot would have suffice, but here they are blowing up the place with a … green... weapon. With smoke.

The mist. The mist spreading. She didn't see it at first. The green-ish cloud is so minimal, almost invisible. The explosion isn't the only goal of the grenade. And the attackers are not coming still. They don't want to be exposed to the mist, even with masks on. They prefer to wait for it to act, before picking up what's left of her. It's been maybe two minutes. Maria is breathing the air and she doesn't know what it is, but she can only guess it is a chemical gass of sort. Nice try. She doesn't brings her sleeve to her mouth and nose, there is no need for it as the blue takes over. She can't stay here if she wants the extraction team to get to her withou dying from the gas. It's time to move out.

There must be attackers in the corridor. Her better chance is for the window and emergency exit. The roof.

With one swift motion, Maria goes for the bedroom, then the safe in the closet. Eyes on her task, she keeps an ear out for footsteps that don't come, confirming her theory of exposure. 'Fuck', she thinks, but now is not the time to analyse that particular aspect of the event. Now is about the ten minutes before extract team shows. Her hand goes quickly to her earphone.

'Been exposed to chemical weapon. Prepare chemical suits for extract team. Quarantine for me.'

So much for her spa time.

'Roger that, Commander.' The agent speaks back to her. 'Extract team will be wearing necessary precautions. Nine minutes out.'

Nine minutes. Maria takes what she needs from her safe, slides the loop of the grenades belt on her chest, takes two gun magasines in the pockets of her jeans. Thankfully she is wearing an old loose jeans, not the skinny type, there is actual place in her pockets for the ammos. Her gun is momentarely tucked in her belt with the knife. One hand goes for the shotgun already loaded and ready to be used. In her slightly swolling left hand is the first smoke grenade. If, as she assumes, there are snippers ready for her to show, she's gonna need a wall of smoke to hide behind. She's not about to give a show to anyone if she can prevent it.

Maria is going for the roof, both for the choper access of the extract unit and the easyness to shot off whoever comes after her. She'll just aim for the ladder along the building, blocking the main doors with some iron bar. Of course, this choice has a down part. She would be trapped with no other way out. It doesn't matter to her though, they can't grab her, they can't hurt her, and they have nothing to bargen with to make her fallow them volontarely. She smirks. The green mist was their only option, and it failed enormously.

'Roof top. Extraction by air.'

'Seven minutes'

Maria returns to the living room in a blur, noting the absence of attackers, nothing but the green-ish gas that is starting to fade. The only access to the ladder is from the window on the other side of the living room, so she goes for it. Her vision goes blue again, and she sees the blue light coming out of her, but she doesn't stop to focus on making it smoother, she knows in the middle of the chemical green it is her best defense. She moves on instinct, reaches the frame and pulls the window open. As soon as the window slides there is a gun shot. Maria ducks back inside, back to the wall.

'Fuck'

She tries for the window again, this time with her smoking grenade. The smoke covers her enough to jump out blindly. The smoke is more to maintain the illusion than anything else, though she can only guess her attackers already know who it is exactly that they are targeting. She breathes the free air and the blue stops. She moves like lightning up the stairs while bullets rain all around her. And on her. She can feel it, while she is climbing and hiding under the grenade smoke. She has to hurry to get out of sight.

Her legs are starting to go numb from exhersion, but she keeps on going up. The smoke isn't hidding her enough now, but she lives just two floors down from the roof, it doesn't take long to come to the top. Maria grits her teeth and doesn't relent, she is dragging her left leg now that she is on the roof. She must have hit her muscle hard when she covered from the explosion. Stupied reflexes, she should have known better after all this time. Habits die hard. She is running for the door, taking cover behind the furnitures where the janitor keeps his gardening stuff – there is a green organic group gathering in the building twice a week, apparently, they started on an organic garden, growing tomatoes and such, on the far south of the roof. The bullets keep flying, but Maria gathers there is only one shooter. From that angle anyway. There must be more in the street, waiting for her. She is not coming down, too much casualties, and too much exposure. She takes the clip out of an other smoking grenade, masking herself in it.

She hears footsteps in the main stairs of the building. Hidding behind the supplies closets, Maria searches for anything solid enough to barricade the doors, but all she can find is a shovel with a wooden handle. She would really prefer iron right now, but that will have to do.

Short of breath, air distangle, the Commander looks down at herself fast before heading for the doors. Her brain is triaging informations. While she is acting, cloosing the doors and sliding the shover through the handles then pushing everything she can – box of seedlings, box of tools, wheelbarrow... - in front of it even though she already knows how futile that is, she is listing her physical state. Her head is dizzy, she feels hot, she is sweating, and not only from exhersion, she has a fever running. Her wounds from the fall seem to have stopped bleeding, the blood on her once white tank top is turning dry, which is good. Her left thigh is still aching, her left wrist burning. She must have torn her muscles. She knows her state well enough to know that soon she will be loosing her bearings completely, making her vulnerable. This always takes a tool on her. She'll have to work on it.

The blue halo is gone for now.

There are bangs at the door. Maria doesn't stay there, she takes cover behind the green house, out of sight from the sniper for now. She takes position, squattes between two smoking grenades, wipes her forehead with a shaky hand before pulling out her gun. She is trembling. She forces herself to breath when she positions the shotgun next to her on a box. This weapon is efficient but the take back will take it's tool on her. She is growing weak by the minutes. 'Fuck'

She puts the gun on her valid hand and brings her other injured hand to the earpiece.

'In position. Roof. Minor injuries. One sniper north'

'Four minutes, Commander. Medical is ready for you.'

She frowns. 'Quarantine' she taps furiously, her fever growing by the minute. She doesn't know what this green gas is about. Maybe it is contagious.

'Yes, Commander. Everything is in place for quarantine and treatment'

There is nothing left to say then.

Maria is in position and wait. It is only now that she can start and analyse the situation. The green mist was supposed to kill her, she is sure of it. Still, she is alive and that wasn't part of their plan. This weapon must have been the must of chemicals, seeing her reaction to it, but it wasn't enough They were over confident. The shooter targeting her isn't a good shot. He didn't have to be, she should be dead, not running around on the roof. Those attackers are working like amaters, and their lack of professionalism doesn't add up with the chemical weapon they thrown at her. That weapon is high technology.

She feels nauseous, the fever is growing. Great. She is getting weak fast.

It doesn't take long for her attackers to break the shovel handle and burst the doors open. Maria doesn't let them step out, her valid hand fire a shot with her gun. She adds two more shots as a warning. She doesn't like to waste bullets if she can help it, ammo doesn't grow out of thin air.

She can hear the helicopter coming, but she doesn't loose her attention on the door, nor the ladder, even though if no-one came after her in her living room by fear of the green mist, she doubts any of them would come for her from the security exit. She changes her weapon and grabs the gunshot with both hands. She fires two shots when two men wearing civilian clothes try to step out of the doorway. Her aim is not good with her fever and shivering fingers, but at this point it is more about keeping them out than taking them out. Still, she manages to wound the giant blond guy in his left shoulder. She thinks she hears him crying 'bitch' and she smirks. Part of her wants to confront those men, find out who they are and who gave them this green weapon to attack her with. Why they attack her specificly. What do they _know_ about her ? Apparently no enough, judging by the cursing she hears from there.

A uge part of her wants answers. But Fury chose her for a reason, and it is her ability to keep her head in the game, to always see the big picture and make hard calls without doubt or guilt nor regret clouding her judgment. She is used to take out the best of every situation in a heartbeat, and she knows hers isn't about gathering intel. If she goes for it, she'll lose her advantage, her covered position, and herself. She is too weak and will likely be taken if she is not careful. She is not invincible.

There is no scenario where she ends up with answers, not here, not right now, not alone. So she lets the choper comes closer, the extract team raining bullets to her attackers while a rope is thrown her way. She starts an other smoking grenade to cover her figure, slides her gun in her belt, shotgun still at hand, but she realises her left wrist is too weak now to support her weight, she needs both hands to grab the rope. Her agents read her state and adjust. Maria tangles herself in the rope, arm, hands and foot, secures her hold and wait to be pulled up. She doesn't have the strengh to climb.

Everything is moving, emplifying her dazzyness while the extraction takes off in the air. Two agents are pulling the rope inside, their Commander coming closer to them, and Maria can't find it in her to put up her stern façade. She is exhausted. Finally she is helped to the carrier, laying down on the cold metal she quickly scans her agents, making sure they all have their protective suit on. She then closes her eyes and focuses on breathing. The adrenaline is leaving her system fast, and all she feel is pain. She is about to black out. She grites her teeth and orders loud and clear over the noise :

'Put me in quarantine'

/

Maria can barely feel anything when she first wakes up. Her body is numb, heavy. She can hear a distant bip somewhere near, it must have been this annoying sound that brough her back from... It is hard to think, everything is hazzy. But she starts feeling her fingertips again, and her mouth. It's dry. Pasty. Disturbing and unconfortable. She can't swallow. She tries something else and opens her eyes.

There is movement in her vision. Maria is moving her eyes, her eyelids flutter but her sight is blury. The light is too intense and she blinks and frowns the light away. She can feel her face now.

She is busy moving her head to the side in slow motion when her brain registers something red.

At the same moment she realises there is something warm on her hand. Maria blinks again, tries to swallow, tries to focus, but the fog doesn't clear and she is exhausted. She can feel the oblivion of inconsciousness beckoning to her and she can't resist it. It is an hypnotising lullaby.

Still, before everything goes black again, she struggles to keep the image of red in front of her, surrounding her. Nothing else matters than those hair and the warmth on her hand. She holds on to it a little while longer.

'Nat ?'

It is the shaky murmur of a dry throat, but the red moves instantly and comes closer. The figure is hovering over Maria now, so she can rest her head and relax her frown. She can see. The face vibrating with a scarlet halo is smiling at her and in that moment, where Maria remembers nothing and is about to pass out again, it is okay, because she reconises her. Natasha.

She is safe here. Natasha is here with her. She can collapse again.

A warm hand comes brushing her forehead in a soothing motion. The red surrounding her is a peacefull sight. Maria closes her eyes and sighs.

She is almost asleep when the fingers leave her head and are replaced by something soft, smooth. The touch of velvet lips on her skin.

The feeling rouses something in her and she tries to move when the lips float, levitate, breath carressing her ear.

'I'm here Maria. You can rest. I'm not going anywhere'

/

The next time Maria awakes, she is more conscious of herself and her surroundings. She is just coming out of her sleep induced injuries, she is still so very tired, but she scans the room as her instinct kicks in. Exits, possible weapons..., her brain registers all.

She is assessening the place and recognises the standards of a white SHIELD quarantine airplaned pod when she remembers both the attack and Natasha. The woman was in the room with her the first time she woke up. She was red, hair flying all around. She remembers feeling safe then.

Natasha is still here now, sitting nonchalantly in a chair. Her legs casualy stretched on an other chair in front of her, the agent is reading a book. Harry Potter. In any other circonstance this vision would have made Maria smile. Even now it would probably have.

But Natasha isn't wearing any protective suit.

She is sitting right next to Maria, and she is exposing herself to the chemical effects.

That thought finishes to wakes Maria up like she's been thrown in ice water. She hisses and braces herself on the mattress to sit. She needs to know what is going on, needs to recall as much information as she can. She is the only witness, as she imagines the cameras from the building and the streets have been cut off before the assault. Those are the thought of the Deputy Director of SHIELD. But on the front of her mind all Maria can think of is that Natasha, the sweet, soft, caring, Natasha, isn't wearing any protection.

Blinking and a little off balanced, little physical inconvenience doesn't keep her from pushing the sheet out of her way. Her throat is dry but she doesn't care, she is about to lecture those idiotic morons who dared not to listen to a direct order. She _told_ them multiple times to put her in quarantine, damn it !

Her hands are shaking when she creases the sheet in her knukles turned white. She needs answers. More urgently, she needs Natasha out of this room. Right now.

'Hey' the husky voice she came to long for greets her.

Maria only stares. Her body's reaction is too slow, why isn't she screaming at the woman to get out already ? Probably because, for a second there, she can't comprehend how Natasha can be so relaxed about this.

She forces her voice to speak.

'You shouldn't be here. It could be contagious.' She is harsh, glaring, she knows, but this is important.

Natasha only nods and doesn't move from her spot, legs still spread on the chair, feet crossed at the ankle, book open in her hands. She sends her a small smile.

'You _are_ being quarantine, Maria'

Confused, Maria distractly rubs at her throat. Okay. Good. She is in quarantine. But why is Natasha here with her ? Natasha moves then, leaving her book open at her page face down on her sit, she comes to the bedside table and offers her a glass of water. Their eyes lock and she smiles again. Maria thinks it is the first time she sees Natasha smile twice in the space of two minutes. She feels priviledge. And it is so not the point right now.

'Then why are you here ?'

The Russian only shrugges one shoulder, snatches her book back and sits on her chair again. 'They said i could try'

Maria almost chokes on her water. She grunts 'What the hell, Nat ?! This is serious, you can't just come here ! I've been exposed !'

Natasha cricks an eyebrow. 'I know this is serious, Maria. You've been out for hirteen hours.' Thirteen hours ? She really needs to practise more. And sleep more. She was about to, in her spa time. Before the interruption. 'The doctors scanned every inch of you, inside and out, they took samples from the scene. They went through protocol of confinement and decontamination.' She waves to the room around them. 'They are sure the chemical you've been exposed to isn't there anymore, and they think you're not contagious-'

'They _think_ ?' If her throat wasn't so soar, she would be shouting, they both know it. Deputy Director Hill doesn't lose her cool, but Natasha seems to be the exception to that rule. 'That's not enough, Natasha.'

'As i was saying...' the agent says with a sarcastic tone, 'the doctors analysed you and they found change _inside_ of you but nothing indicates that you could _affect_ anyone. The chemical gas is no more. They think it's safe to be in the same room as you or be in contact with you, so i said i'd go first.' She finishes while putting her booted feet on the chair once more.

Maria watches her for a moment. Natasha has many faces to show the world but she thinks there is a silent agreement between them, a silent promise from the former assassin to be her true self when they are together. Maria thinks that priviledge still stands. The woman isn't playing, she is seriously relaxed about breathing the same air as her. She even touched her. On her forehead. Maria remembers the feeling of her lips. She touches her forehead, then shakes her head and sighs. She needs more information about this gas.

'I need more information.'

'I know' Natasha's small smile is here again. 'Commander' she teases with a smirk. 'I called for back up the moment you sat on your bed, they are coming.' She points to a button next to the bed, near the water jar. When Maria glances arround the white room, she informs her more 'We are on Coulson's Bus. It was the closer medical facility near your extraction point. It was decided that you will stay here until you wake up. There was nothing more to do than wait.'

Maria nods. 'Do you know anyting ?' she props to gain time on gathering intel.

'Only that your vitals are stable and you seem to be fine by all standards. I wasn't privy to other informations, and honestly i didn't care at the time.' She pauses and looks away. Her voice is only a murmure when she says 'I was worried about you'

It is soft, and shy, and so not like the Natasha she shows the world.

'Hey'

Maria calls with the same tone Natasha called her minutes ago when she awoke. When Natasha turns her attention to her, Maria smiles. It is the first true smile she is giving her since the gym, which seems so long ago now. They are alone, and she is waiting for information, so she can at least enjoy their moment while it last. Before complications hit once more.

'Hi' she says with a soft voice, her smile never leaving her lips. For the first time she really look at Natasha then, seeing her black boots and black jeans, her green shirt and brown coton vest. She is wearing very casual clothes and no make up. Her long curly red hair are down, free. She is beautiful. Their eyes lock, and Natasha smiles her small smile.

'Hi'

Maria's mind is blank then. She doesn't know what to say. Thank you for coming ? I like waking up with you being the first thing i see ? No. So she sighs and sinks back in her bed. Her body is tired, she feels her left side wounds burning her. She is sore. Good, they know she doesn't want to be drugged. The truth is, the drugs only work on her if she is the one to take them, consciously. Still, she prefers feeling her injuries than having her thinking capacities limitated by sedation. She brings a finger to her itching cheek. There is a scratch here too. She closes her eyes brifly and goes for a light comment.

'So, how was _your_ day off ?'

She ears Natasha shifts beside her, and she opens her eyes to see. Maria wants to watch her as much as she can before the doctors come in, every minute now. There is a spark in Natasha's eyes when she shows her the book.

'I discovered Harry Potter'

The book she is reading now is the third of the collection. There is relief in her voice.

'You're a fast reader'

'I had time to spare'

Maria remembers scanning the room when she woke up. She saw the two other novels stacked on the floor under the bench, next to the door. Her eyes find it and she asks 'How long have you been staying here ?' Now that she thinks of it, she remembers the husky voice lulling her slumber like a constant melody in the background of her sleep. 'Have you been... reading to me ?' She tries to keep her voice neutral, but she knows the wonder she feels is shining through.

Natasha Romanoff, the bad ass agent, the ancient KGB assassin, the deadly Black Widow was reading her, Commander Maria Hill of SHIELD, a story.

Maria blinks and smiles, she feels warm and suddenly she doesn't care about who attacked her, she doesn't care about quarantine or her messy body full of injuries and knots in her hair, all she can do is feel this warmth all around her, envelopping her like a cocoon. Their eyes are locked now, green iris open and vulnerable. Natasha has her mouth open but nothing comes out, she doesn't know what to say, this is new territory for both of them. She looks small and slightly lost, and so sweet. The vision is endearing.

Natasha closes her mouth, averts her eyes a moment, then comes back watching Maria with the small smile she's been giving her since she woke up. She is about to answer, her honest answer, when the door of the pod slides opens to a femal doctor in white blouse. Maria recognises her, agent Simmons.

'Commander Hill, it is good to see you awake and well !' The woman starts with a smile, a chart in her hands. 'Well' isn't the word Maria would chose, but she knows she could be in a worse shape than she currently is. What troubles her is the chemical unknown part of her situation. 'I would like to check your condition now that you are awake.'

'No need' Maria's stern voice answers in her commanding tone. 'Vision clear, memory clear, i can move my fingers and my toes. I know how to assess basic body fonctions, agent.'

'Oh, well.' The woman rolls back on her hells, her smile wavers. 'You must have a lot of questions after your waking up from your short coma, i'll try to give you all the information i can to the best of my abilities. Your clerance level is the highest, after all.'

Okay. So this woman is the ramble type. The Commander will have to lead the debrief.

'Coma ?'

'Yes. Your injuries were not severe but you body shown heavy exhaustion. It shuts down for a moment, but Director Fury said it as normal... and then it needed time to heal. Short coma are curent in the healing process, there was nothing to worry about. Your metabolism is strong, quite strong actually.'

There is scientist wonder in the last sentence, but Maria only nods. Her stare is enough to make Simmons swallows and glance at the chart once more.

'Now, about the alteration of your cells...' The biologist is fidgeting, her fingers playing nervously with the chart in her hands. Maria knows how some agents can get unbalanced while talking to the Commander. She has a reputation that makes her intimidating. Simmons clears her throat before straightening herself, ready to develop. 'The chemical you've been exposed to has been retrieve and analysed. Once you were stable i run all tests in the lab to understand the alterations this green smoke was suposed to do. This was used as a weapon, so i first though about a new chemical creat to disable the target, making it easy to adbuct like a sleeping gas, but...'

'It can't be it. The attackers clearly didn't want to come near that thing.' Maria cuts in. 'Spare me the details of your research, agent, and get to the point. What was this gas ?'

She is sitting up in the bed again, uncaring that she is actually naked in a standard medical blouse under the white sheets matching the walls of the pod. Her clothes must have been burn, probably. If they didn't she will do it herself. There is no way she is going to wash off the blood, and honestly she doesn't care about her clothing. Material is only about necessity.

Agent Simmons glances at Natasha, still sitting in her chaire with her legs propt and her open book laying flat on her stomach. Maria sees how the woman battles which face to put on. While around others SHIELD agents, Natasha usualy goes for a blank face, giving nothing away but not lying and putting on a show either. She hesitates only slightly, because when she is with Maria she is learning to be more open, more expressed of her real self, and Maria thinks that Natasha likes those quiet moments they share. But now they have company, and the intimatie of their rare moments is on hold. The decision is made in seconds as agent Simmons pauses before answering the Commander, and her agent Romanoff's face is in place.

Maria exchanges a rapid silent conversation with Natasha, then turn to the biologist. 'You can speak in front of Romanoff' Her tone is sharp, those of the Commander. It's an order, and the girl better start talking now.

'Alright' Simmons clears her throat. 'A cleaning team retrieved the chemical weapon, i analysed it and made a test on an organic subject to confirm my assuption. The cells's reaction to it was immediat, even with a minimal exposure the plant started to glow green before each cell disintagrated itself. ' She pauses. 'Commander, the plant disintagrated in a matter of seconds after being exposed to only two percent of the chemical _you_ have been exposed to. The weapon is extremely dangerous and deadly, with an efficacity frankly horrific. I never knew a composent like this existed. It isn't registered in the biology that we know of. It is foreign... '

Alien then, Maria guesses. Her conclusion are leading her to a shirt list of people able to pull that type of attack on her, in a dangerously clumsy way.

'The scientific team that cleared your appartement scanned the atmosphere and it was as sterilized as a hospital operating room. There was _no trace_ of life there, no microbiological residue of anything.' The British looks at Maria with bright eyes. 'I took samples of your biology, i looked at your cells closely and even though the integrity of your core biology hasn't been compromised, your cells are changed. To survive the chemical gas your body seems to have adapted. You are the same, but different. _More_.'

Maria only watches her. She already knows that part. She is busy thinking about the brain behind the assault. The people knowing about her specifics can be counted on one hand.

Simmons's rambling fills the air.

'I proceded to different tests. I put some of your blood under the chemical influence of this green composit and filmed the cells's reaction to it on camera. They _destroyed_ the compound. More than that, they generated an electric field around each cell to _protect_ themselves afterwards. I studied the phenomenom meticulously, i compared your medical files from joining SHIELD and your actual statues post exposure, your biology _evolved_. At this point i can only assume that the chemical triggered something in your dna that wasn't planned by the attackers. They wanted to make you disappear, perhaps using you as an experimental target of practise, but what happened wasn't planned at all. Your body's very structure adapted. It's extraordinary, really.' Simmons clearly seems enthousiastic now. 'As a scientist, i am quite amazed by your biology. I would like to run some more test, if you'll allow it. At this point, i am quite certain the chemical is totaly destroyed, in fact, the best protection against it would be to be standing right next to you. I would like to see how far your spontanious shield reaches. From what i could test on your blood samples i can only guess the protection reaction would be maybe about three feet large around you, like a halo, but it is only speculation. I would also like to see if this protection can be transmis to others, maybe by touch, and -'

'Did you find anything else, agent ?'

Maria isn't about to become a lab rat right now, not without all the variables.

'Huh.' Simmons looks at the chart still in her hands. 'As far as i can tell those are the only alterations of your body. For now. At this point we can only wait and see, i suppose.'

Wait and see.

'Are you suggesting that i stay in this pod for a long period of time ?'

'Well... Protocol for this type of situation is clear. Observation and isolation until complet clearance. I'm afraid you are under observation still. Your body needs to heal anyway, but even then we cannot let you walk out of this room before being certain of your condition'

Simmons swallows and sends her an apologetic smile. 'You wrote the protocole, Commander.'

Maria sighs and grits her theet. It isn't Simmons's fault if the girl doesn't know anything of the situation, after all. She made sure no one knew.

'No test are requiered. I already know all there is to know about my biology.' She eyes the scientist with a stern face. 'You are not privy of that information. None of the agents are.' Simmons is stunned and uneasy. She nods slowly, her confusion showing. Maria doesn't let her time to adjust. She passes a hand in her hair and starts her list. 'You stop your research now, give me every file, every data, every sample you have collected to fare. I want no trace of this, do you understand me ? I want my phone and my uniform as soon as possible. And a shower.'

The scientist blinks and retorts, unsure. 'Your body has been decontaminate' The look Maria gives her makes her point in the fare corner of the pod. 'The bathroom is this way' she answers weakly. 'Agent Romanoff already has spare clothes for you'

Maria looks at Natasha behind Simmons's shoulder. The Russian profits Simmons isn't watching to send her her small smile with a shrug of her shoulder. Adorable.

Maria keeps her Commander face and just nods to Natasha. She knows the woman will be able to read her gratitude in her eyes. There is one more thing to do. She turns her attention to the biologist once more.

'Contact Director Fury immediatly. He will give me the clearance you want to get me out of here. I have an agency to run. And he will order you to destroy you research as well, if you need to pass my order by him. I'll allow it this once since it is a unic situation for you. But make no mistake, i am your commanding officer and i gave you a direct order. Gather all your research right now. I want a list of those who know about this, and i mean _everyone_. And don't give me that look. I'm sure it isn't the first time you don't understand what's going on. Just roll with it.'

Clearly the young agent isn't used to deal with Commander Hill. Where Natasha knows Maria is able to handle any kind of pressure, assess and adapt to every situation, even one where she is directly concerned, Simmons seemed to think the Commander should be about to break down from the news she just gave her. Little did she knew that this turn of event isn't newsflash to Maria.

This information, however, is classified. It is Maria's best kept secret and she is not about to divulg her asset off handedly.

'Move out, agent'

When agent Simmons walks out of the pod – run is more like it , probably to find Coulson– Maria only hopes the scientist will remember her list.

Now that they are alone, Natasha raises an eyebrow at her. Still lounging casualy on her chairs, the woman silently gathers her scarlet hair above her forearms before joining her hands behind her head, effectively clearing her neck. The pose is relaxed and her façade is down. She trusts Maria taking charge of the situation like a day to day activity, which, it is.

As the dangerous urgent aspect of the circumstances has been dismissed in a heartbeat by the Commander who obviously knows more about this than she lets on, relief and curiosity start showing on Natasha's face.

'Care to share ?'

/

/

/

A/N

Sorry, computer problems and all that. I so wish to be in holidays already ! Working is overrated. Anyway here is the new chapter ! As always now i totally didn't see that glowing blue part coming, i'll work around it in the next chapters.

I'm not much of an action writter, so i hope that was alright. Those fictions help me improve my style ^^

A also wanted to say i finaly watched all the avengers/thor/captain america movies and i decided that i'm gonna pick what i want from that.

SO

_The story happens few months after New York events on Avengers 1

_SHIELD is still standing and fonctionning

_There is no Hydra infiltration in SHIELD agency.

_There is no Bruce/Natasha romance.

_Natasha has been raised in the Red Room since she was born

_Maria has an obscur past that will be reveal

_The Inhuman part of she serie happened, Ward is dead, no Hive part

That's all i can think of for now.

/

Thank you for reading and please review !


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Maria looks dishevelled on her bed, her head proped on her pillow as she sits against the wall. The white blouse she is wearing is a one piece cloth made of a fabric that itches the skin just by looking at it, going from neck to ankles and wrists like an ugly potatoe bag trying and failing to resemble a dress. Her brown hair are loose, framing her face in every direction, joining in with the cuts and bruises and giving the Commander an air of unproper that feels really out of place in a SHIELD facility.

Natasha can almost feel the disconfort of the woman as she brings her fingers to the neck of the blouse, tugging it as far from her skin as possible in a wince. That is why she isn't surprise when Maria priorities her choices in the minimum amount of time she has at her disposal. Knowing Coulson's efficiency, he will manage to get a reach on Fury. It is only a matter of minutes before somebody comes barging in again.

Even though Natasha would really like to know what is going on now that she is certain that Maria is okay and about to kick ass again as soon as she gets her hands on her uniform. But her own curiosity would have to wait. Before that, as she knows the Commander after watching her work for five years at SHIELD, there are forms to restaure.

Seeing Maria fidgeting with the cloth and visibly weighing whether staying and answer Natasha's question, or moving out of that damn trap of a clothing, Natasha sighs with a small smile. That same smile she doesn't seem to stop herself from doing since Maria woke up. She doesn't mind it, she quite likes it actually. This smiling thing make her feel a little giddy, like she is behaving like a normal girl, not like the deadly assassin she is. Natasha was so sure this part of her didn't exist, she finds herself amused by her own behaviour. She is smiling and she likes it. She is off the clock and they are alone, so she can allow it. Still, her smile is small because, well, she is Natasha, and Natasha doesn't do explosion of expression, she, most of the time, goes for a blank face. So this is improvement.

Maria scratches at the skin on her throat. Natasha's grin stretches a little bit more. She locks eyes with the woman, never moving out of her chairs, still lounging about.

'Go.'

Her voice is amused but she keeps from smirking. She congratulates herself for that. Maria would probably goes full Commander mode on her ass if she were to prob the unconfortable itching beast. Maria Hill can be really scary when she is pissed off. No thank you.

'I'll wait'

It is all it takes to make Maria's shoulders sag in relief as she closes her eyes and breathes a deep 'Thank you' which sounds very much like a moan.

The Deputy Director is out of her bed in no time, dismissing her injuries completely, wincing here and there trying not to put her weight on her left leg, but she keeps going. The hydious gown drifts around her with a dry noise while she slowly – with a determined frown – walks to the door Doctor Simmons pointed moments earlier. Shower.

Natasha smirks at her back then, happy to see the ever bad-ass Hill, moving around in her usual -while a little limitated for now- determination. The unstopable force still stands.

Natasha doesn't think for a second to move and help, she knows the Commander is very capable of doing her business without her, as she knows her stubborn pride would have pushed her out anyway. Why bother then ? She has a nice book waiting on her lap, something about a black dog mark in the bottom of a tea cup. This Harry character sure seems to have a lot on his plate and she still has a little bit of free time - no-one required her unic skills on mission until now. She hopes she'll have free range to stick around longer, as she knows her small injury from two days ago would not be enough to require medical assessement to put her off active duty. She doesn't want to be sent on mission, for her usual missions are the undercover ones, often for days or weeks, sometimes months.

She doesn't think she can focus on an op now, not without knowing with certainty that Maria will be alright.

Natasha checks her inner clock. It's been five minutes since the bathroom door shut closed. They don't have time. At any moment Fury or Coulson can barge in, Maria can disappear in her neat Commander uniform barking orders left and right, or Natasha could be summoned for briefing.

Sighing, she slides the worn photo of the Barton's family posing with her on Christmas last year into the book to keep the page she is on, before standing up. She drops the book on her sit and moves for the door. She can still hear the water running. With practise efficiency of a spy, Natasha opens the door and smoothly walks in. Soundlessly she closes the door after her, keeping the heat in and plumps herself on the sink, her legs swinging lazely under her. If Laura were here she would probalby be scolding her for setting a bad exemple to the children. Natasha smirks at that and swings her feet some more. She is about to make herself known when Maria's voice rings out from behind the glassy door.

'I'm Inhuman'

Leave it to her to go straight to the point in a casual tone.

There is a pause, but nothing else comes from the shower part of the room.

'Okay'

Natasha can be concise too.

She is processing. They don't have time for Maria to develop the how and the why.

'Do you control it ?' she asks instead.

'Not really'

She hears the pipes closing. The water stops and in the sudden silence Natasha wonders if she should go. They both have shared the commun shower stall in the women lockerroom before, neither caring about nakedness, each agent wanting to get rid of the grim post-mission as soon as possible. But now things are differents.

Or not, apparently. The shower door opens without pause and the Commander appears, in all her glory. A hand darts and grabs a towel, first drying her face with a content sigh before wrapping her body all around. Natasha doesn't dare to look. She feels shy and stupid suddenly, but she can't look away either. She is stuck watching Maria's relaxed face, damp hair, drops of water and perfect blue eyes.

'I manage enough though'

Natasha blinks once, remembering what they were talking about, as Maria smiles at her, her eyes soft. She is giving Natasha that smile, the same smile that this night in the lockerroom at the gym, the teasing-caring kind of smile that sends warmth and butterflies in Natasha's belly.

She swallows. Her fingers clinch at the sink under her. She feels her hands sweating and her pulse quicking. Still, she can't take her eyes off of Maria's beautiful face. The woman is relaxed for the first time since she woke up. Her usual guard is down as they are just the both of them, alone, in the secluded bathroom. Maria seems to have enjoy the shower immensely. She is fresh and calm, almost serene.

She is beautifully soft and easy when her guard is down.

Natasha knows how Maria, like her, is a very private person. She can relate. They both have their private self locked away from the world. As Maria choses to put on a mask of Commander Hard Ass Hill most of the time – everybody knows the nickname the juniors agents use behind her back with a mix of fear and respect – on the other hand Natasha is learning to discover her own private self when she has free time and is alone to do so. There is something fragile about the process.

It has been difficult at first, understanding and using her free time. The concepts of 'time off' and 'salary' were so foreign to Natasha that the first year after her deprogramming Coulson had to drag her outside of the agency into a shopping feast to make her discover the joy of vacuity. They even went to a theater. Just for fun. There was no-one to spy, no mark to seduce, no assignment. Natasha's wandering brain hadn't been able to focus on the movie then, always assessening potentiel threat, ready to strike imaginary targets. She learnt to relax since then, Clint made sure to sign them for movies marathon almost once a month on random places -mostly inviting himself on her couch at the farm, sometimes using his laptop in their bunk on the carrier-, saying you improve only with practise. Still, the practical part of Natasha's mind learned to stay alert in the background. Her ability to multitask was one of the main reason she survived her Russian training in the first place. Now she is able to live a fully relaxed moment with her friends while keeping watch at the same time. She made it. She learned. As it was true that practise was key for learning any new fighting -killing- skill, it appeared to be true for learning 'to chill' as well.

Now it seems Natasha is learning to … love... more... with practise. Clumsy practise, but she is a beginner and she knows she will improve in time. The more the practise, the easier it will be to be around Maria.

Natasha isn't worried anymore, now that she knows what is going on between them. Now that Laura told her that it was love that she felt toward Maria. Love in a higher scale. Falling in love, it is called, and Natasha understands why, as she feels her body reactions and compares it easely with a drop from a plane with only a parachute to activate at the last minute. It is quite similar. And like parachuting, she will practise falling in love until she masters it.

'I need practise, but the most important part is that it protects me whenever i need it'

'Good'

Natasha nods with a distracted voice. Her brain registers the information, but she is otherwise occupied with her staring. She is looking at Maria's peacefull face, the cut on her left eyebrow reminiscent of the injury the woman gained facing Loki's men months ago on the hellicarier. Natasha remembers the fear she felt then, for Maria, seeing her shaken and lost, her fierce exterior momentarely wavering, but Natasha had dismissed her surprising fear for the Commander quickly in the heat of battle, in the urge to close that gate in New York sky.

She can linger now, she can look at the dry blood on Maria's forehead, the wound already healing itself in fast speed. Speeder than usual. But they don't have time to talk about that and Natasha choses to use the short amount of time they do have to look, just look at the strong woman in front of her, relieve to see her unyielded with only bruises marring her side. Healing quickly too by the look of it.

Maria is fine. Maria is okay now. Her relaxed state is soothing Natasha's lingering worry more and more, until there is just this butterfly feeling all over again.

She sighs.

Maria tilts her head to the side. She seems to realise that Natasha's attention has drifted a little as they stand – sit – with each other in the tinny steamy bathroom.

Huh, so it appears that Natasha isn't quite able to hide her state of... feelings's storm right now. Even though, they have a silent rule. No hiding. She doesn't know when they established that one, but it feels like it's there as a fondation for them.

No hiding.

So Natasha lets herself bare, her green eyes and her small, shy grin for Maria to see. She feels her heart hammering in her chest. There is recognition in Maria's eyes, and a soft smile stretches her lips, the caring smile only for Natasha to see. For a moment, they are silent, looking at each other without barrier, seeing in the other the reflection of their own feeling recently discovered but never talked about. There is no need to talk. They are no women to talk arround, they are women of action and smooth efficiency. That is why Maria's smile grows and she takes a step toward Natasha. Natasha licks her lips as her fingers loosen their grip on the sink. Two more steps and they will be in the same space.

The tension between them increases, it is a good tension, Natasha decides. Contrary as before her talk with Laura that opened her eyes on her situation, now Natasha can fully contemplate the low humming that spread all arround her body, like a steady vibration. She is starting to like it. Her eyes locked in hypnotising blue iris, she is afraid and she is at peace, both feelings sending chills everywhere. Maria's progression is both too slow and too fast as Natasha forgets how to breath properly. Her hands itch to reach out but she doesn't dare. She is a mess, but she trusts Maria to take care of her, to take their relationship into her hands and move them forward.

Because Natasha is paralysed.

Still, she can't look away. She really is hypnotised by Maria's blue eyes as the tall woman finishes to close the distance and stands in front of her. Natasha's clothed knees touch Maria's toweled stomach, then there are slightly wet fingers touching her cheek. A soft caress of skin. Maria's gaze fallows the movement of her fingertips, soothing a path to the jaw and back. The feather like touch becomes firm as the woman's thumb comes accross Natasha's bottom lip. At that moment she realises she was bitting on it. After a gentle probing of Maria's thumb, she releases her redden lip with a sigh, allowing herself to breath again. Maria's eyes goes for Natasha's red lip, and Natasha can hear the little moan escaping the Commander's mouth before Maria licks her lips and leans closer.

Natasha's gaze is all over Maria, taking in the gorgeous face and the droplets of water she wants to lick softly. Only this woman brings Natasha's soft side out. She feels the same need to cuddle, to reassure, to smooth and to sooth as she does the Barton's children, only in a totally different way. Mixt with the caring, soft feeling there is hunger, desire, wants to lick those droplets of water softly from her neck to her ear teasingly too, then suck on this perfect shaped earlobe, bit just under it, lick Maria's velvet skin with her hungry mouth. There is fire of passion lurking under her skin, ready to get loose. This, the flame of desire mixt with soft caring, Natasha never lived it herself until now, not on that level of intimatie. It is not just about sex.

The new territory is thrilling.

Before she knows it, Natasha is leaning too, her hands are no longer on the sink but searching for Maria's hips, bringing her closer. She opens her legs to make room. Maria steps in, their breath heavy as their noses brush. The fierce blue eyes are intense, a clear echo of Natasha's own feelings. Desire and softness. When Maria closes her eyes, Natasha does the same, and there is only touch. The brush of tempting lips as Natasha's hands grip at the towel, as Maria's hand snuggles in red locks. The pressure of their mouth increase slowly and soon they are kissing, feeling each other, tasting each other. It is soft and beautifull, but it's not enough. Blood pulses in Natasha's veins with fire. She darts her tongue out to lick at Maria's bottom lip, making the naked woman shiver and moan into her mouth. The sound echoes straight in Natasha's lower belly, where the butterflies are celebrating wildly. Her hands tighten their hold on Maria's hips and pull closer as her tongue invade her mouth with a content sigh. Maria arches into her.

With the tip of her tongue, Natasha brushes the top her Maria's mouth. Maria's knees waver a little as she clunches the sink with the hand which isn't currently burrying itself in Natasha's neck, scratching deliciously the sensitive skin there. Natasha's legs come to the rescue, wrapping themselves arround Maria's waist to prevent her from collapsing on the ground.

At this point, they are a tangle of fryied nerves, heavy breathing and clawing nails. Their soft first kiss it turning into a heavy make out full of tongues and moans and _fuck_ , Natasha has to stop herself from grinding. Maria's demanding tongue sends bolts of lust in Natasha's core. Her hands has left Maria's hips, she is coaxing Maria's head now, fingers spread all over brown hair, making the woman whimper and moan again and again. The fire is wild between them. Natasha's noises are loud too, and if it weren't for her super training she wouldn't have heard the door of the pod being slide open.

But she is a super assassin from the Red Room, so she hears it, and she knows Maria wont any witness to their private moment. Hell, Natasha don't want anyone to walk on them either. She never minded when it was just sex with a nobody, but now is different. Now, most of all, is intimate. Now is _perfect_ , and it will remains pure. A pure moment of shared bliss to remember.

With a grunt Natasha slows their kissing to a stop, sucks one last time on Maria's bottom lip in a lingering goodbye. When she releases her mouth in a wet sound, making Maria whimper into her with a pleading note, Natasha groans and refreins from diving down again. Those swollen lips has her addicted already.

Maria's content sigh makes her smile lazely as they touch their forehead and come down their high.

They can hear people talking in the room just outside.

Maria doesn't stiffen, though Natasha knows the woman heard them too. They stay relaxed in the loose embrace, sharing the same air for a few heartbeats longer. Then Natasha's hands slowly leave Maria's hair, brush the naked arms before finding themselves gripping the edge of the sink once more. She uncrossed her legs and releases Maria. For her part, Maria nuzzles Natasha's temple with a satisfied 'hum' before dropping a kiss there.

When they open their eyes, Natasha is smiling like a fool but she barely feels it and she can't make herself stop. She is happy. For the first time of her live, she feels a level of happyness she didn't know was in the cards for her, not after the life she had, not after everything. But here she is, and it's only her first kiss. There is so much practise in her near future, she is smiling even more her cheeks hurt.

Maria's low chuckle makes Natasha's eyes spark and raise an eyebrow. She knows she looks like an idiot, her feet swinging giddily under the sink, and she dares Maria to comment on it, but honestly Maria looks on cloud nine herself. The woman, standing between her legs still, her brown damp hair all over the place after Natasha's mishandling, claded in the towel barely hanging by a loosening knot, it the picture of content. Natasha can only stare at the sexy mess of the Commander, gratefull for her perfect memory for she knows she will replay this moment in her head until the next time. The next they will get to be fully alone together like this. It could be in a long time.

There is a knock at the bathroom door and Maria grunts. She distangles herself from Natasha, forehead leaving temple, and steps back. Blue eyes meet green's with a wink, her teasing-caring smile making an appearance before she turns arround in a military motion. She pauses a moment at the door, squares her shoulders, and Natasha knows the woman is no longer Maria, she is Deputy Director Hill, ready for duty.

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A/N

Awww finally the romantic scene of a KISS we were all waiting for !

A special chapter just for it ^^

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Thank you so much for your reviews, it helps the writting coming tremendously !

\- i so love english langage with all it's funny wording – _tremendously_ ^^

It's like a game, playing with this langage ! Anyway :

niehausis here is the kiss you've been waiting for ! Your probing helped me decide, well first to a closer setting instead of more turning around each other -honestly i was ready to wait few more chapters before moving on to _that_ part, but i feel that those characters are strong and when they know what they want, they go for it -, then if they were actually be kissing this time or if they were gonna be interrupted. I almost made Fury walk in on them just before Maria closes her eyes. But i'm not that cruel ^^

So, you're welcome ;o)

debssofs i am so counting the days i have left till holidays and honestly i am kind of desinvested with it all at this point, just counting down the days. Two more weeks and i'm off to the beach, YES ! ^^  
Guest i'm glad you liked the action on the previous chapter, i have to say i'm more an emotional and psychological kind of writter, but i do like a challenge ! There will be more action in the future for them both

Genesiswings i love your ENTHOUSIASME ! Thank you for your sooo chearing review ! I feel like a footballer or something. Go, go, write, write, the crowd is wild and i score a goal ! New chapter updated ! Yeah ! As we say in french 'la foule en délire' as i run around the field ! - which translates as 'the delirious crowd'

I'll be waiting for your chearing reviews to keep me going ^^

MochaGirl14 i do love a slow burn in romance, and even as they kissed today they are not an item yet ! And yes, they are certainly developping an easiness and their own private langage, which will come in handy very soon ;o)

Ilessthan3KH i love that story too ! I am so happy to write about it, it's more like i am writting it so i can read it with you guys, does that make even sense ? There are so few fanfictions about this couple, i found myself in need to read one, so i wrote it... :o)

Snow0115 thank you Snow0115 for your support from the start, i am grateful, and know that i will be updating the Clexa fiction as well, since i appear to be unable to stop writting those stories ! My others projects are not as appealing as those lovely romances ! I have so many other pairings i want to explore after, but i intent to finish those 2 stories first.

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Don't worry friends, the developpement is in process ! I won't let you down !

I love you all, thank you for your support !

Please keep the reviews coming, it keeps the writing going ^^

Team effort !

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As usual, sorry for my misspelled words here and there, i am not a machine haha ! o)

This chapter is short, i hesitated to update it or wait to write more, but i felt this scene deserved it's own chapter. I am working on the fallowing chapter now, from Maria's point of view now, it will be updated soon, probably this week.

:o)


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

As soon as Maria walks out of the small bathroom, she goes straight to the agent standing in the middle of the white pod. She puts on her usual stance, even though she has to grit her teeth to do it. Her left side hurts like a bitch but she keeps her posture without a glitch, arms crossed in front of her, feet apart, head high. She dismisses her nakedness and her state of dress, currently the white towel and droplets of water are irrelevent to the encounter.

'Coulson'

She nods, her tone short. She is not in the mood for stalling.

'Commander'

Phil acknowledges her mood in a second, his small dreamy smile barely repressed.

'It's nice to see you already healing.'

So they noticed the uncommun pace of her healing process. They are good, she smirks to herself. They are her agents, after all. They better be, she personnaly trains some of them when she has the time and is in the mood for a little fun.

'Boss is on the line'

Coulson adds with his usual swagger. He points a telecommand toward the wall behind Maria's back. She turns around to be face to a screen, showing Fury in a black car somewhere in the wold. The man can never stay in one place. Maria stands tall, hands behind her back when his eye scans her briefly, uninteressted by her lack of protocal regarding her clothes. Actually among the both of them she is the one insisting about ethiquette. If it weren't for her she knows Phil would be wearing his damn suits _all_ the time. He is like a fetishist, or a fashion victim, or a shopping addict. Or he has OCD. Maybe she should talk to psych about it. Currently though, he is wearing his standard SHIELD uniform. The smart ass knew he was going to meet her and decided not to piss her off. Good for him.

The car Fury is in takes a turn, making him and the camera move to the side.

'Good to see you in one piece, Deputy'

As always, his harsh tone sets the mood.

'Coulson, do what she says. Hill, say and do what you want. You know the drill, you're in charge. Don't bother me with details, i'm busy.'

He fires his orders then pauses, seeming to contemplate something. But Maria knows better. She can feel the little shadow moving behind her. Nick is scanning the room once more and nods to himself with a grunt. He moves, ready to turn off the com, but before that he looks at Maria with his penetrating eye.

'Contact if you need'

With that the screen goes black.

Nice talking to you too, Nick.

Maria refreins from smirking. She is so used to the man's lack of social skills she can easely read between the grunts and the roughness. He is glad she is okay, he trusts her to run SHIELD as always, she can do what she wants regarding, well, everything. She swears she is more like a co-director at this point. She can deal, as far as he deals with the politics.

Also, he knows about Natasha.

It didn't take more than the Russian sneaking out of the bathroom unoticed by Coulson for Fury to connect the dots. Sometimes Maria wonders if he is a little psychic, the way he seems to just _know_ information by looking at someone. Either that or he is secretly a super computer with eyes and ears everywhere. Unlikely.

She sighs.

The Director is out, she is in charge, and there is a lot to do. Starting by...

Her eyes find the dark clothes neatly folded on her bed. They weren't there minutes ago, but she doesn't have to seek Romanoff out to confirm she is behind that gift. Eyes on her target, Maria closes the distance while releasing the knot of the towel, letting the fabric fall to the ground. She is naked with her hair still all over the place as she grabs the first item. Underwear. The efficient Black Widow thought of everything.

Maria can feel Natasha's stare on her body, admiring smooth skin like a soft caress, assessing her injuries as well. Her left thigh is a massive dark bruise, her muscle hurts at every movement. It's her worst wound. The wrist is still swollen and unconfortable, but she'll make do. She uses her right hand to shot anyway. She glimpsed at her face briefly while in the bathroom. Even though she was totally focused on the beautiful red head tangled around her at the time, her brain registered her reflection in the mirror. Scratched skin, three wounds, on her eyebrow, forehead and cheekbone. Her shoulder is stiff and sore, unwilling to move her arm much. All in all, Maria can only be grateful her fingers, ribs, hip, ankle and foot are still intact. She really needs to stop going for cover when her blue shield prevents her from getting hit anyway. Stupid reflexes.

She is buttoning her pants and goes for the black tank top. Natasha's gaze has not left her. By now the Russian must have come to the same conclusion as Maria : she is a giant black purple bruise with no broken bones and barely torned skin. All her body needs is time to heal properly. Of course, being the Commander she is, it's not gonna happen anytime soon.

While she dresses Maria is already thinking about the different missions she'll have her new assistant brief her about, those that were under process when she left for her time off – so much for that – and those who took off when she was abscent. She'll also have to look at that artefact they retrieved earlier in the ocean. She'll do all of that on the side, while she digs into her memory to find out who could have planned this attack on her. Those unprepared amateurs were probably bad mercenaries, easy to track, easy to find. They are just pawns in the game, and they probably don't even know who they are working for, or who gave them this green gase they throw at her in the appartment. This investigation will be hers to do, as no-one at SHIELD knows about her powers. No-one except Fury, of course. He even gave her her very own secret training room -she never uses it-for her to learns to master her new set of... powers.

Gah. She is so not a fan of that word. She never liked the superhero business. She never gave her support to the Avenger initiative in the first place, and now it looks like Fury is eyeing her as a new piece to add in the collection. Again. No thank you.

Maria finds the rubber band lay out on her vest, slides her fingers in her not quite dried hair to level her locks. Her skull can still recall the way Natasha's hands were massaging her wildly, making her moan while her tongue was sucking on her mouth...

She has to close her eyes at that, even for a second. It is the first time in a long time that she drops her composture at work, but she has her back on Coulson and she knows the man is standing far from her, she can hear him talking quietly to Agent Romanoff. As she knows Natasha is listening and answering while her eyes track every inch of Maria at distance.

So Maria allows herself to turn her head just a little, to smile just a little as she takes the rubber band and ties her hair in her usual manner, letting her fingers linger just a little on her open neck, slightly caressing herself knowingly. If she wasn't aiming for it she would not have notice the small intake of breath. But she was looking for it, the little tell that Natasha and her are on the same page, that they would rather go back to the bathroom and continue their private session. That Natasha would be happy to put her hands back on Maria's hair and neck. Maybe she would put her mouth there even, and...

Okay, that's enough. Maria can't let herself go there, she really can't. She has an agency to run, thousands of people counting on her leadership to stay safe, focused and efficient. Her agents are dispatched all over the globe and she has to be at her best too. She has no time for a love life, she never did. There is nothing new about it.

Natasha and her own private wishes will have to wait.

She finishes putting on her standard jacket and pockets her com, earpiece and cell phone.

'Do you have the list ?'

She has worked with Coulson for almost ten years, they are very familiar with their way of thinking. He will know what she is talking about.

'I have. The kids are a little disappointed but they'll get over it.'

Maria fixes her gun to her hip and thigh, then leaves the white pod, one hand out. A sheet of paper with a neat handwritting – Coulson's – is handed to her. Three names : Simmons, Fitz, Coulson.

'Fitz-Simmons has the habit to work alone, i made sure no-one else came into play before you gave me the go ahead. They won't tell a word, i can assure you that. I have been working with them for almost a year now and they have become reliable.'

'Your trust is not enough on that'

'I know'

He says with a sigh. Coulson knows Maria well. He knows she has secrets even he is not privy to. He maybe even guess that her secrets have secrets. They are friends and loyal, but Maria is a very private person, and anyway, in spy business it is better to keep some advantages in your sleeve – and Maria used her rank to make sure all informations about her were definetly erased from any database, making her a single child with no story, then a military soldier with no waves, a boring profile for anyone looking. Coulson doesn't resent Hill for her secrets, neither does he questions her intention to make everyone forget about the very existence of one said secret. As they walk side by side in the corridors of the Bus, agents moving out of their way with wary and slightly relieve expressions at seeing their Commander well and strong, he sighs.

'I would like to avoid using the Tahiti protocol, Commander. The experience is rather... displeasable'

Maria doesn't relent nor does she snort at the euphemism. She read the report about Coulson's death by Loki's hand and all the curative process he went through afterwards. Tahiti. An other of Nick's project she didn't know about. A walk in the park. She has seen the videos, heard the screams. She screamed the same way, a long time ago, she still has the nightmares to go with those scars.

She thinks about Agent Simmons's smiling face. The young woman doesn't deserve such a pain just to get ride of one memory. She is one of SHIELD, after all, which makes her one of Maria's. Maria takes care of her agents.

They are reaching the back of the plane now. Few more steps and she'll be out of it. She knows for glancing at the windows along ther way that they are back on the hellicarier. They kept her in the white pod until they knew for sure she wasn't compromised either biologicly or otherwise, but still, they brought her to base for her to go back to duty as soon as possible once she was cleared. Coulson knows her so well.

Short from going down the opened door of the aircraft into hellicarier's soil, Maria stops and turns around, facing Coulson with her fierce mask. The Agent takes her stare and gives back as much, his easy demeanour gone. He shows her his serious face, the one of the leveled 8 agent he is from head to toe under his multiple suits and soft voice. Maria has gone on many missions with this guy, he saved her life as much as she saved his in turn. For a while, they were a unit, a team.

'You sure about your kids ? Fitz and Simmons ?'

Coulson's gaze goes more intense. He nods. Maria makes her decision.

'Alright'

Phil's rigid posture relax a little at that, but Maria poses quickly her conditions.

'They'll have to go through a lot of process, Phil, i can't have any agent talk about what happened, about what they know. They must shut up and not even think about it.'

She puts her hands on her hips, tips her chin toward him.

'Since you vouch for them, you're responsable for them. I want everything done to prove me they will be the best agents and forget about it. They will go through multiple lying detection to make sure they do not waver, they do not talk, they do not think about it. I want you on them nights and days Phil. You are their babysitter until further notice.'

She eyes him, no trace of humor on her tone or her face. She is not kidding and he better not take this lightly.

'Yes sir'

Coulson's firm voice is enough to calm Maria down a little.

'As for you, you are my friend so i don't mind you knowing. I'll tell you later if you want to know. With a beer and a lot of tequila shots'

She allows herself to smirk then, because it is Phil and they are alone for now. Well, if they don't count Romanoff's shadow lurking near by. Even in her civilian clothes this woman can become a ghost in a second. But Coulson and Maria know better than to assume the woman just took off without a word. Her being invisible but still arround is her bizarre way to respect their privaty and wait until they need her or until she has something to add to the conversation. Because Natasha's view on privacy is very different than everyone else's. She is not visible, but she sees and hears all. She only gives them the _illusion_ of privacy. To her, it is enough, because to her it goes without saying that she collects every secret and discloses none to no-one, not even under high torture. She is born from the Red Room, she grew up with so much daily pain that she is immuned to physical or psychological torture of any kind. Every secret is perfectly safe with her. So, in Natasha's reasoning there is no need to hide anything from her.

Yes, the ex-assassin is a work in progress.

Maria is about to go down the opened back door of the Bus when she decides otherwise. Instead she goes back a little, waves Coulson out saying 'Go control your Agents, Phil' and waits for her friend to leave.

She sighs in the silence.

'I have to go'

She says the words quietly once she is alone. Her gaze goes from Coulson's Lola to the black van without interest. She doesn't have to wait long. The husky voice she came to long for answers her in her back, quiet as well.

'I know'

Maria doesn't turn arround. They are not in the privacy of the bathroom anymore, there are cameras here. She is not about to let anyone know about possible weaknesses, specialy not now when she just was personnaly attacked by someone who knows far too much about her already.

'I have a new assignment'

Natasha's voice is like a ghost, and Maria imagines she is still hiding somewhere out of sight. Commander Hill doesn't loosen her composture. To anyone looking she could be talking to her earcom as she frowns. She doesn't know what to say. She is worried and she knows how stupid that is. Natasha is the Black Widow, trained to kill and survive no matter what. Trained to take unecessary risks to get a mission done too.

Over the years Romanoff had developed a habit. Sometimes she would go dark right after a mission -it doesn't happen a lot, but it still happens minimum ten times each year, and three years ago she brooke the record and vanished after twenty-six ops-, retreating without a word to anyone after a job done, not bothering to show up to debrief, sending her report via e mail though, and re-appearing out of thin air weeks later with her usual blank face, no answers to the officers yelling at her, and new scars she had been dealing with by herself in one of her secret safe house. Filthy hole more like it, knowing the woman's lack of selfestime and her clueless behaviour regarding basic decoration. She doesn't care about much beyond her basic needs, her _very_ basic needs. Like she can manage three days without eating, stitching a wound without anesthesia with only a needle, a lighter and vodka, or go six days long without sleep... When she doesn't have to. When she shouldn't have to. Not anymore. She is not alone anymore, she is a SHIELD agent now with a support system, and yet it's like she tries to remind herself of who she is without the agency. What she can still be and do all by herself, on her own. Her deprogramming was a success and she is a good asset, but the ex-assassin continue to elude them all the same.

'Could you...'

Maria doesn't know how to say it. She is good with words though, she just have to find the right ones.

'If you need time for yourself, or time alone...'

Maria sighs, puts her hands on her hips to keep from fidgeting. She hangs her head down and breaths. She tries again.

'If you can, i would like it if you could just send me a quick text to let me know that you're okay'

Her voice is small at the end and she can't help the twitching of her stomach. Her throat is closing and she feels like an idiot. When Natasha doesn't say anything Maria can only guess that the woman is staring at her like she is a lunatic or something. She rambles.

'It's just that sometimes you dissapear, you don't come back with the extraction team, you don't give sign to anyone but Barton-'

Maria pauses then, swallows. She is such an idiot. And apparently she is fiddling her neat uniform's sleeve like a nervous girl now.

'Right. Barton. I'll just ask Barton if he hears from you. Of course. Never mind what i just said'

She closes her eyes now and just forces her mouth to _shut up_. What is going on ? She never is nervous around anyone before... never. She never gets anxious or awkward. She is always in control, she learned that a long time ago when she was still a child, never showing any sign of anything. She clears her throat and takes a step down the door, trying really hard to find her Commander's composture again.

She is almost down and out of the plane when the husky voice calls from the shadows.

'Wait'

With that one word, Maria hears it all.

The uncertainty, the confusion, the fear. Natasha's usualy controled voice trembles like she tries to reach out but doesn't know how, and it reminds Maria of their encounter not so long ago in the tiny bathroom of the pod. How Natasha seemed hopefull, inviting, but shy and lost at the same time, sitted on the sink with her hands slightly shaking. Maria read her then, understood that even if this was new and disturbing to her as she never let her guard down to anybody, it was even newer to Natasha. The feral Russian had been paralysed, unable to do anything, not knowing how to proceed.

Like she sounds now.

Maria's whole body relaxes all at once, hearing Natasha calling out for her that way. Her loving, caring, confused Natasha. Clumsy, shy Natasha. Maria's reaction is to go to her, to reassure and to show her how to be the way they both want to be, how they can be easy and just _be_. Even if Maria herself doesn't axactly know how. But what she knows is how, when they are close enough, when they can touch, everything becomes natural, like breathing.

The way they kissed earlier was perfect, there was no hesitation there, no keeping back, no thinking or second guessing. No doubt, no fear. Just the meeting of skin. It is their grounding point, Maria realises, as for her too relationships doesn't come with a manual and she never was good at... feeling. She never really tried to be either. But with Natasha she wants to thrive and learn. They will learn together.

'Where are the cameras ?'

She asks then, because all she can think of is how she needs to find those green eyes, how she needs to smile at her and reassure her that everything is alright.

'There is a blind spot here'

Natasha's smooth voice comes from an other part of the cargo, she moved without making a sound. The perfect assassin. Her tone seems to hesitate and invite all at once.

As soon as Natasha speaks, Maria is on the move. Forgetting her injuries and her Commander's façade, she is racing to the wavering voice, eyes adjusting in the shadows as she passes behind a black car right to the boxs stored in a strong net against the far wall. Natasha is up, tangled in the cargo's security bands hanging from the cabin, her feet barely touching the higher box. She is perched like a bird, crounching on herself with her arms opened, hands gripping the sashs. Her red curls frame her unsure face, bright green eyes questionning a little warily.

God she is beautiful.

Maria doesn't stop, doesn't slow down, she just jumps on the boxs with her strong right leg, grunting a little as her left leg drags behind, goes up more and finally reaches the collar of brown cotton vest. She uses all her height, goes to the tip of her toes and crash their lips together.

Natasha's surprised intake of breath is enough for Maria's tongue to invade her mouth and everything blurs arround them. There is only the amazing taste of Natasha, the thrilling feeling of her tongue taking hers. The perched woman takes it all and gives back with a fever that makes Maria hot. When Natasha moans in her mouth, Maria groans and slides a hand in red locks, behind Natasha's neck, while the other sneaks around her waist under the vest, bringing her closer. She feels Natasha's hand gripping her right shoulder, she feels the woman's knees opening and welcoming her. The position could remind her of their first kiss, not long ago, except now they are acrobats juggling with balance of bodies and tongues. But Natasha is a skilled _everything_ and Maria has a natural balance and strong muscles to back her up. They manage.

The kiss is wild as Maria breathes hard into her, taking all, giving all. Their mouth battle, wet swollen lips, hungry tongues and clicking teeth. It barely starts that Maria finishes it, sucking avidly on Natasha's upper lip before releasing her mouth, her fingers gripping thight to the smooth body above her. They are breathing heavily, faces only inches apart as Natasha's thighs clench Maria's sides.

Maria opens her eyes quickly. She bores the slightly hazy green irises with all the intensity she feels for her. As usual, there is no time, but they don't have to talk. Maria is nothing but efficient at summing things up.

'You keep yourself safe, i keep myself safe'

She makes sure to articulate each word strongly. Natasha's confusion transforms with understanding, her whole face becomes lighten and relaxed. With a very small smile she nods in Maria's hand still burried in her hair.

Maria smiles back at her then, she nods too and goes up only to brush her nose against Natasha's. She closes her eyes and relishes in the feeling. Their lips are one breath apart but none of them close the distance. They revel in the quite humming of their proximity two seconds more before Maria's heels find the box under her feet and bring her down, her hands sliding, caressing, along Natasha's waist and jaw, their eyes locked in silent good bye.

Maria turns around, and in two controled jumps – still aiming on her right side while cursing her healing's slow progression in the process – she is on the the cargo's floor again, her black standard boots barely making a sound. She doesn't look back to the shadow in the dark, she just moves forward, head high, hard mask in place and goes down the slide.

/

It's been almost three weeks since she last saw Natasha.

As she is -as always- the current unofficial Director she knows Agent Romanoff has been assigned to work with Bruce Banner on the Hulk. The order came directly from Fury, apparently just before Coulson came in the white pod and disturbed their soft moment. A long time ago.

Fury is still clinging on his Avengers. Like him Maria read the reports post New York, she remarked the potential connection Natasha seemed to have made with the Hulk too, but she never mentioned it, both in the wish to preserve one of her agent from being crushed by the giant beast and in hope that the Director actually forget his little superheroes project. No such luck.

So for an undetermined time period Agent Romanoff's new assignment is to tame the big green _angry_ muscle feast, with lots of recording cameras and detailed procedure. Three week with the beast, not really a holiday. Mission code : Lullaby. Figures. Nick is so infuriating sometimes.

For her part Maria barely slept since waking up on the Bus. Her assistant, Agent Art, while very efficient and taking up a load of work from her plate, isn't enough to keep up with the heavy responsability of knowing about everything going on on SHIELD. Maria is starting to realise that Fury must have his own private spy network, spies spying on spies, keeping him informed about everything on strides, triaging the intel for him. Maria seriously thinks she'll hire two more assistants soon.

The last member of the weak association of mercenaries that came after her in her apartement with the green mist is behind bares now. As she guessed before she even started interrogating anyone, they are amateurs and know nothing about the weapon they used. They were just pissed that SHIELD get to the artefact in Atlantic ocean before they could summoned their crazy god, so they accepted a mysterious gift from a mysterious person, the same person who gave them the adresses of many high ranked SHIELD officers in a nice little UBS key, and didn't asked questions. Morrons.

After interrogations and tracking with Coulson, Simmons and Fitz's help - since they already knew a little too much about it anyway, they might as well help cut the shit down – Maria is one hundred percent sure the cult that called themselves 'The Liberators' - with capitals - are no more. Each member is either dead or locked in a cell. She went thorough about it. But a bugging feeling keeps nagging at her, she is sure she missed something, an obvious clue that could point her in the direction of the real brain behind all of this muppets show.

Knowing nothing comes from headaches except a bigger one with an inclination for suicide, Maria stops her thinking, stands from her chair, stretches with a grunt and goes for the coffee pot. She glances out of the window wall of her office. The sun is setting down, they are drifting in the clouds somewhere above the Pacific now. They just retrieved the Hulk and it's handlers from their isolated location in Paraguay's forest to have a debrief as well as to change their location, and decide whether or not continue the assignment. And while Maria itches to go and see Natasha again it will have to wait. They both need adjustements.

Maria knows her agents enough to know that Romanoff loves to disappear as soon as her mission is completed, and she wants to give her that until the debrief tomorrow. Plus, staying three weeks confined with Banner definately makes need for alone time. Knowing the Russian, Maria bets the sweet awkward doctor with a moral code and self loathing must have grit on Romanoff's nerves greatly. Even if she didn't show it one bit, of course. Always the complasant asset. Still, after that mission, juggling between the gauche scientist and his green roaring counterpart, she must really need a break.

Also, Maria herself has a lot to do yet, and while she puts her personnal hunt on hold she goes for an other chase now. She needs more assistants. So she digs out the files she went through the first time when she chose Agent Art. She is going through it all again with a new eye, not looking for a bureaucrate this time. Art can deal with the paperwork with no problem, but Maria needs an other sort of assistance. She needs experienced field agents, one used to handle multiple teams on high pressure with time running out, one used to be undercover, to scan and register every little detail then triage and decide which is important and which is to be dismisted.

The more she thinks about it, the more Coulson and Carter's names comes into mind. They are both friends of Maria, as much as they can be, and they all worked together from time to time along the way of their respective careers. They all know how the others think and are very efficient agents.

Maria keeps their name in mind and stops flipping through files. She doesn't know many people capable to stand comparaison with Phil or Sharon anyway, no need to lose her time. She barely touched her cup of coffee and she thinks maybe a nap would to her good, of maybe a stop to the gym to move her body a little. Her bruises from the attack are heald, and a good work out sounds really nice now.

Commander Hill walks to the lockerroom as her agents salute and nod with respect, feeding on her ever strong exterior. The gym will be packed at this hour, but she doesn't mind, she knows they will leave her alone to it. She quickly change in sport wear, ties her sneakers and foregoes her usual bun in favor of a pony tail. She does her five laps and is starting on her work out, slowly burning up her muscles lifting weights before going for the punshing bag when her earpiece bips in her ear. She sighs but doesn't stop her push ups when she answers the call.

'Talk'

Her breath is steady, she is barely starting to sweat.

'It's Natasha'

Barton ? Barton never calls Deputy Director Hill, Barton always goes for Coulson if her really need to call an officer about something. Even then he tries to avoid it.

'What happened ?'

'Banner'

She can hear the darkness in his tone. This is no good.

'Something went wrong with the doctor, i don't know. I saw her walking in with this... fear in her eyes. I know that kind of fear, i've seen is before. She is trapped in a memory and now she is hiding in a vent. I find her sixteen minutes ago but she wont budge. Normally she would talk to me by now or at least _notice_ me but...'

He pauses.

'I think you better come'

His voice is quiet and in an instant Maria knows that the agent isn't calling her to inform the Deputy Director of an ex-assassin going mad and possibly being a threat to the crew. He is calling _her_ specificly because he knows about them. Of course. He is what Natasha has the closest to family, of course he noticed. Natasha maybe event talked to him about her.

Maria's reflex is to tense and barricade herself behind her walls, becoming hard and cold. She doesn't like it when people know about her life. She doesn't like it at all. But even if Barton isn't a friend to her, he is like a brother to Natasha. So that makes him an exception to that rule, apparently.

Maria starts to contemplate how much her rules about her personnal life are going to be bent in the near future.

Barton's next words help her make her decision about him.

'Maybe you can reach her, i don't know'

Barton's voice is grave, no trace of disconfort or teasing in his tone. He is really worried and that, most of all, makes Maria worried too. Because it takes a lot for Hawkeye to get in this state of seriousness.

'I know she is receptive to you ' He sighs, barely a broken whisper.

'Where ?'

She is already heading for the door, not wasting time changing out of her clothes. And yes, she never does that, even in the heat of a crisis Maria Hill always manage to handle it while hitting a quick shower and putting on her uniform properly. She is really good at multitasking, hermetic to the pressure with her cold efficiency. But apparently a lot of her life's habits goes right through the window when Natasha is concerned.

Like disclosing one of her most kept secrets, the one about her abilities, her power that makes her feel even more like an outsider, like a freak. She knew there was no mic or camera in the shower stall, but still, she _told_ Natasha about her. She even said the word she tried so much not to associate with. Inhuman. That is one hell of a personnal information she gave out very willingly.

She also dismissed everything and just kissed the woman on a SHIELD aircraft afterwards near it's opened door, where anyone could have seen her.

And she finally chose not one but three assistants now, all because Natasha was concerned for her health. Because of the way she said 'You should sleep, Maria' in the quiet of the lockerroom at five a.m. in the middle of the night, when Maria should have been sitted on her desk, working as usual. Always working. Always a perfect square.

Having feelings for Natasha makes her a messy tangle of lines searching for a new form. She can feel it, how slowly with each passing day her square cycling life is no more.

So Maria runs in the corridors, bits of hair escaping the rubber band of her pony tail, wearing her sport bra, black tank top with a SHIELD logo on her uper left breast, matching black sport short. She's heading to the vent in the south section of the third level deck, near the fuel system, where Barton and Natasha are waiting for her. She knows the hellicarier's structure from roof to basement since she bugged Fury until her gave her the blueprints and she explored herself every inch of this place before opening it to use. She takes all the shortcuts. Even then she knows it will take five minutes to get to her.

'Talk to me Barton'

She barks in the com. Thankfully even as her habits come crashing down all around her when Natasha is concernet, her basic fonctions keep fonctionning. She had the good idea to pick up her phone before taking off like a crazy person. If she could, she would be rolling her eyes at herself right now.

'She's trembling in the corner in the vent, hugging her knees and, and... Fuck !'

He curses with a low tone. Maria hears the helplessness in his voice.

'I don't know what to do, Commander. I...'

His voice breaks and there is silence.

Maria increases her speed, she is in full race mode, every agents moving out of her way with wide eyes. She doesn't care. She opens an other line on her phone, and when the agent answer the call she orders sharply.

'Art, you filter, i want to be disturbed only if there is a really, really, really urgency, do you copy ?'

'Huh, yes sir, yes'

The man isn't a soldier but he is an efficient assistant none the less.

'If you don't know how to assess the urgency of a situation, ask Coulson first, he'll know what to do.'

'Understood sir. I will.'

'Good'

She cuts the line and goes for the stairs.

'What _happened_ Barton ?'

'I don't know ! It's all because of this fucking assignment ! I _knew_ it was a bad idea when Tasha told me about it when i saw her on the tarmac. I wanted to call it off, or at least _go_ with her, but i was taking off on a mission already. She told me it would be okay, she _told_ me !'

Maria turns a sharp left and Barton in finally in view. He is standing alone in a desert corridor in his sleeveless uniform, walking left and right like a caged animal, tugging at his hair with a vice grip. Behind his funny façade and easy demeanour, he is an emotional wreck and he clearly doesn't know how to handle this.

To be honest Maria herself finds it hard to remain calm.

She finishes her jog in a rush, Barton's relief at seen her lights up his face for a second before he points freneticly at the opened grid down the wall. This part of the ship is dark, more like closed tunnels that corridors. Only the mechanics come here to check or clean the machines. It is the perfect hiding place. She suspects it isn't the first time Natasha comes here.

When Maria drops to her knees, breathing hard in the low humming noise of the machines all around, she pops her head into the hole. It is dark in there. Her eyes adjust and she looks front, up, left and right, until she sees a small form in the far deep left of the metalic tunnel. Natasha is curled on herself like a ball, unmoving. Maria scans the petite silhouette then ducks out a moment. Hands on her knees facing the opened panel, she turns her head to the right, blue eyes burning.

'Explain to me why the Hulk assignment was a bad idea'

Barton's hands scrub furiously on his face with a grunt before he crouches down next to his Commander. His voice is low, like he is wary of anyone hearing them.

'She has a bad history with attackers coming on to her with brutal strength. Normally she takes the threat down quickly even before they know she is there. Poison in their drinks, poisoned dart in the neck, snipper shot... If she really can't take them out without close confrontation, she uses their fighting style at her advantage, she dances around her opponent like a ballerina, no problem. But there is always the possibility of not moving fast enough, not dodging fast enough. Of being grabbed. If they put there hands on her then she is done. She hates that, i know she does even if she doesnt let it show. On time she joked and said it was her only weakness. I always know when she is giving me a truth about herself. It wasn't a joke.'

Maria nods curtly.

'The Hulk is a massive destructive beast with not only strength but speed' She assesses, connecting the dots.

Her eyes go wide for a second.

'Did he catch her ?'

There is fear in her voice, she knows, but she doesn't mind, she is talking to Barton alone and the man is more anxious than her at the moment.

'No !'

Hawkeye quickly moves his head left and right.

'No' He repeats with a tone that makes him both relieved and threatening. Banner will have a visit from a very angry fist soon. Or Fury. Or both. Maybe Maria will help.

'So, physicaly she's alright ?'

'Yes'

He grits his teeth.

'According to the mission report everything went smoothly. A fucking success'

The last words are spitted with disgust. He is a puddle of nerves.

Maria lets him be as he sits on the ground, all his anger vanishing, leaving him worned and worry. She crawls in the dark tunnel on her bare hands and knees, eyes on Natasha. She moves slowly, at first for her sight to adjust but also to prepare Natasha to her presence and growing proximity. For all she knows the woman is in deadly assassin mode, ready to strike at any perceived threat. Maybe the smart idea would be to leave her alone and wait out until she comes back to her senses. That would be the safe choice, but the thing is, it would leave Natasha alone in the dark, with her anxiety, her fears, her angst, and Maria can only come closer. Every cell in her body wants to reach out for her, to care for her, to shield her from everything. She wont leave her alone, she just can't.

She is three meters from Natasha when she stops crawling. The distance is long enough to not be confused as an aggressor, but short enough to be felt. Maria doesn't say anything in the humming of the machines. She just stays there, with Natasha. She keeps her company in the dark.

The mere proximity of the Russian is enough for Maria to relax her own nerves. The presence is soothing and she breathes better in the tunnel. She knows Barton is outside freaking out but she finds herself calmer as the minutes pass on. She sits with her back on the left metalic wall, legs bent knees up, her hands on her stomach as she lets her head lean back. The position allows her to loosen more. She is facing Natasha from afar, the small ball of limbs curled against the right wall of the tunnel. Maria can see Natasha hugging her knees closely, her head bent against her forearms, red locks cascading in every direction. She knows the woman's green eyes are on her, assessening, watching. She is tense, ready. But nothing comes. Maria doesn't budge, she just stays there and let Natasha get used to her.

After minutes of immobility, Maria moves a little. Slowly, soundlessly as to not stratle the ex-assassin, she reduces the distance, leaving only two meters between them. The Russion eyes her as she moves but doesn't react. She doesn't relax neither tense more, she remains a small statue.

A deadly illusion, Maria reminds herself.

Even though Maria's whole body ease with the proximity of the woman she hasn't seen for three weeks, the woman she realises she was missing a lot now that she is back within her reach, Maria is not stupid. The Commander part in her estimates the possibilies, scans the agent still claded in her standard uniform and notes her weapons, the gun at her left thigh, knives and other gun in her boots, the wrists bracelets with it's pockets full of garrote, poisonned darts and others tiny deadly tools, the blades hidden between shoulderblades. Even without all of those Romanoff on herself is a viscious weapon.

Maria could be dead in a second.

Thankfully she has a pretty damn good weapon herself. Well, to be correct, she _is_ a pretty damn good weapon herself.

The times when she is grateful for her power are rare. Unlike most of the Inhumans, Maria didn't stay at Afterlife as Jiaying would have liked, she didn't trust them after they turned up in her life when she was barely a teenager, cheeky smiling Gordon talking about her dead mother's biological legacy and taking her to some safe heaven. She was already bitter and bit up by her fucked up childhood and she hated the community. She never intented to live there and never intented to be 'deserving' of the Terrigenesis thing. She was a teen full of angst behind her closed off exterior and she gave the finger at everything with her hard face and cold eyes. She wasn't meant to trigger any super abilities with a bunch of freaks, she was meant to be on her own. She was running away that night when Gordon caught her and brought her to the Terrigenesis. He had a crush on her. He thought, once she would have transitionned – or die, but he was so hopefull and young he didn't think about that part -, she would stay. He was wrong.

Maria sighs at the memory. She is glad for her own personnal blue protection, yes, she's not going to lie it helped her a few times in her life, but honestly it isn't worth the amount of shit that went with it.

Either way, what is done is done, and she made sure they all thought she was dead. She became good at desapearing. She even hooked up with a guy only for him to teach her how to hack every database and erase everything the system had on her. Then she created a nice little identity for herself and joined the army. She bacame Maria Hill.

She never heard of Afterlife since then – not until the recent developments with Coulson's team anyway – and never tried to master her power. As long as it didn't bother her and she stayed clear of any social interactions, this part of her past was non existant. Until Fury found out about it after an op where she really shouldn't have survived while her whole squad was ambuched on a mines field, and SHIELD went knocking on her door.

She was the perfect ranking officer with a touch of unhanced power and cold efficiency Fury needed for the job the Council kept nagging at him to creat. They wanted someone reasonable and military to keep him focused. They wanted a Deputy Director. Fury found one with a little something he liked. As for Maria, she didn't have much of a choice, she was already in a SHIELD facility, being told all of her team was officialy dead on duty, herself included. Still, she wasn't a stuborn captain in the Army Special Forces for nothing, so she made her demands and hold her ground in face of the one eye man with a temper. No probing, no tests, no questionnings. She was to be his Second in command and nothing more. He refused and played the soldier card, saying if she had control over her power she would have been able to protect her squad instead of fending for herself. He called her selfish. He had a point but she didn't tell him that. She called him asshole. After a week of negociations, threats and sometimes fists fights they came to respect each other. They came to work together. She learned to care for the people of the agency. Slowly.

It hasn't been easy.

But now Maria is the head of SHIELD and Nick trusts her completely to take care of the house. Natasha is part of that house, whether she keeps to herself or not. Like Maria. How many times did Fury, Coulson or Sharon barged in Maria's apartement to force her out of her shell ? She never welcomed them, but at the end she was always glad they came. Even sometimes just to share cheap beer, bad tv or heavy silence.

On some level, Maria knows what Natasha is experiencing because she herself never was a people person. She wasn't cut out from that tree, not with the father she had, not with everything she went through. She never seek help from others, never show how she feels, never deals with it either as long as it doesn't jeopardize her work.

'When i was ten, my father beat me to death'

Maria's voice is neutral in the steady humming of the vent.

'He went a little too far that day. The medic revived me. I grew up used to the beating, it was nothing new to me, it was life, i learned to take it. I was a good athlete at school, probably could have made it pro in an other life, but what mattered was that the training helped taking the punches. I built up muscles to take a hit, so i just stood there until he was finished. I never said anything. I never begged, i never cried, it would have only make it worst. I learned that when i was six, maybe. Don't make a sound. Don't draw attention. Wait. I waited a long time, and i took it.'

Maria thinks she would have stayed a lot longer there if Gordon hadn't showed up with his crazy talk about Kree and stuff. He was her father, he was all she knew. It was normal.

Contrary to Natasha, she never tried to dodge the fists, the belt, the boots or the occasionnal bat. She kept her ground and took the storm without budging. She became strong and balanced because of it.

Today there isn't much that can move her.

'I grew out of fear after a while. It was whole a game of waiting him out. Patience'

She knows Natasha listens to her quiet words in the tunnel. Maria moves a little, closes the distance until they are one meter apart.

'I found out the more i waited out, the less he beat me up. It was no fun for him. I wasn't playing the victim. Sure, i was taking the hit, what else could have have done ? At the time i never saw an other option. I was young. But somehow it paid up, because my lack of participation bored him out. He couldn't feed on my fear since i had none to give. I became a master at taking the beating. I wasn't impressed, i wasn't feeling anything in fact. I was just waiting. I wasn't playing his little sadistic game'

Of course after that he found an other way to dominate her and lash out, using humiliation and shame on her matured body twice, but she had learned to disconnect her feelings completely at that point. She was out of reach and he could do whatever he wanted to her body. As soon as she found out how to become an even more impassive doll, that abuse didn't last either. No fun fucking a body with no soul.

Jiaying told Maria once that an Inhuman's ability often comes from one's stronger natural skill. Maria was good at shielding herself from everything. She was an impenetrable bunker.

Well, she doesn't know where she is going with this story. She doubts there is a nice life lesson to make out of this. She survived as best she could, and her way to do it was to become cold and heartless, soulless even. Uncaring. Unbothered. Empty. She says her guard is up all the time but the truth is, she still is disconnected even now. She doesn't know how to reconnect with the part of her that can feel. She is learning, since she joined SHIELD. Fury, Coulson and Carter are among the closest she came to feel about, but she never really found her way to a full on emotion. She feels in halves, sometimes more but it doesn't last.

So at the end she really doesn't know why she is telling Natasha about it. How does it help her ? She doesn't have a solution to give, not really, seeing as the solution Maria found for herself made her an emotional potatoe. She accepts it, she deals with it, but it's no solution to give.

You're being abused ? No problem, just shut down all your sensations, become a nice little robot and wait it out. Oh, you might lose some parts of your soul in the process. No big deal.

She sighs. Maybe she should go see a psychiatrist on the side. She already tried it once when she was in the army, but it didn't help. At all.

Bad idea.

She glances at the Russian accross from her. Something in her changed last month, when they first started to see each other in a different light. Maria felt more. Everything was unhanced then and it is still true now in the narrow tunnel. She can feel so much with Natasha, like she is reconnecting with the part of herself she accepted a long time ago was out of reach. Like she is restoring her soul, after all this years. Somehow the deadly assassin touch her deep, and maybe she is the key to open the door to her lost ability to really care.

Because when she looks at Natasha, she really do care. She is dressed in her sport tank top and shorts after all, messy pony tail and everything. She is feeling deep.

Maria doesn't realise she is smiling like an idiot, her eyes roaming the body in front of her as her heartrate increases. But Natasha must realise it. Maria's words served as an anchor and brought her back to the present, easing up her emotion and calming her body. She relaxes her muscles and turns her head toward Maria. A hand darts and moves the red locks out of her face where Maria can meet curious green eyes looking at her with raised eyebrows.

'Why are you smiling ?'

The husky voice is lower that usual, but Maria shivers all the same at hearing it. The woman has such an effect on her, her grin goes wider. She shrugs her shoulders, never breaking her gaze.

'Don't know. Looking at you makes me smile apparently'

She isn't embarassed, this whole situation is so strange with her mind still half tuned to her past and all the trauma lying deep under her skin she just don't care how she looks and how she sounds. But already her brain shuts the memory door to her father's face. Fuck off the old man from her forgotten past. He has no hold on her anymore. He never had. He never will. He is nothing.

All that matters and all she can see is Natasha, so close and graceful even in their current position. Maria lives in the present now, and right now she is with Natasha in a vent, looking at her beautiful face, her curling eyebrows and small grin making her so cute she is drawn to move closer. She crawls the remaining distance and soon she can feel the heat of Natasha inviting her.

She doesn't touch her, leaving centimeters between them, her eyes never leaving hers. Slowly, Natasha straightens her head. Her body is fully relaxed now that she uncrosses her arms, drops her gaze with a shy smile and puts a hand on the metalic ground, inches from Maria's own hand.

Maria doesn't say anything, she doesn't move. She is content to just be with her for as long as she can. She is happy to see Natasha is out of her previous state, so see her hesitant smile and loosen expression starting to appear. They'll deal with the Hulk and everything later. For now, she just wants to be here a little longer.

She's glad she had Art and Coulson taking care of business, so she can stay more, even though the crisis seems to be averted. Maria feels like they both are coming down from a very intense ride in the memory train, and they both need some time to adjust and find their balance again. Since they can aford the time while no-one is looking for them at the moment.

Maria is busy breathing in the smooth scent of Natasha, revealing in her presence after all those days without her. She is lazely watching the silk skin of her ear, her throat and her upper chest, carressing the beginning of her breast with a stare that makes her hot all of the sudden, when she feels Natasha's soft fingers tangling with hers, picking up her hand. She is smiling shily still, looking at Maria from under her eyelash. She tugs on her hand.

The lethal woman can be so cute, it makes Maria wants to cuddle her.

'Hi'

The smooth velvet voice makes Maria's body hum with satisfaction. Natasha is okay now.

She fallows the silent instuction and slides herself farther form the wall, closer to the woman entrancing her. Natasha brings their joined hands to her lap as she unfolds her legs in the little space they share. She keeps her right leg bend loosely knee up while her left bending leg lies on it's side, sitting in a half indian fashion. She opens herself to Maria and Maria inches into her. Natasha's inner thigh is hot under Maria's palm. The Russian's fingers leave her left hand and go to stroke up and down Maria's bare forearm. The goosebumps reaction sends chills in her belly.

'Hi'

Maria's voice is a murmur between them. Her brain freezes, as it often does when in Natasha's proximity. Her thumb rubs the leg in a soothing gesture, both to reassure Natasha and herself. They are okay now. The storm left and they are here. They are okay.

She is a little stunned when Natasha's hand leave her arm and lands on her right cheek with a soft caress. She thinks it maybe is the first time Natasha initiates intimate contact between them while they are both awake. Maria still remembers the kiss she received on her forehead when she was unconscious after surgery, of course, it counts in her head as their first kiss, a tender gesture so sweet and perfect, but still, Maria catches her breath a second when Natasha's fingertips explore her face with a dreamy look in her green eyes.

'It is good to see you'

Natasha's voice is as soft as her touch, as firm too. She is restoring her strength. She is Natasha Romanoff, after all.

Maria brings her free hand to cover Natasha's fingers, trapping them on her face as she leans on the touch with a content sigh.

'It is good to see you too'

She mimicks the gesture then, stroking the strong thigh on last time before moving her hand to smooth the red locks framing Natasha's face. She hooks some of the wild curly hair behind her ear.

'I missed you'

She adds it with a distracted voice, too focused on her task of breathing Natasha, feeling Natasha. Up until now she hadn't realise how much she can breath better when Natasha is here with her. It took the agent to go out of her life for weeks for her to discover how deep their connection lies.

Natasha leans towards her then, joining their forehead with a sigh. She comes closer still, her nose brushing Maria's temple, smelling her. It is her way to say that she missed her too. Natasha, the wild feral animal.

Her gesture makes Maria hum in pleasure, and Natasha takes it as an invitation to nuzzle more into her. With the grace of a panther, she moves her whole body and manages a manoeuvre in the narrow tunnel. In seconds the Russian is straddling Maria's laps, her face completely buried in Maria's neck and messy pony tail, her hand still on her cheek under Maria's, the other one gripping the left shoulder like she would to an anchor.

Feeling the weight of Natasha against her, Maria's skin is on fire, but she knows now it not about sex or desire. Now is about cuddling and revering in the other's presence, finaly free of any barrier. Now is about just being with the other, and breath. So she breathes, deeply, she relaxed her nerves and eases the fire in her belly. She sighs her delight and closes her eyes.

Natasha is her anchor too, somehow. With her she feels like she can fully relax, like she never did in her entire life.

/

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/

/

A/N

Sooooo ! What a long chapter this one ! With a little bit of unpredected angst about Maria's past. I feel like developing the characters now, so next chapter will probably be as profond, about Natasha this time. Rest reassured it still is a romance story, no heavy stuff in sight because, well, it's not my cup of tea. I like easy life and you know, mature people :o)

As always, thank you for your reviews ! See ? As i said earlier, it keeps the writing coming ;o)


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Natasha closes her eyes in the confort of Maria's arms. She is attached to the woman like a monkey to a tree and she likes the feeling. She likes to feel the last of her fear fade away in the warmth of Maria. She feels safe there, in the scent of Maria's sweet skin, her nose pushed in brown hair behind an ear. It is so strange, how every part of her relaxes then, how she wants to drop everything and just reveal in those arms. She only felt that kind of trust with one person before, with Laura's motherly hugs, which Natasha learned to receive but never engaged. But now, with Maria, the comparaison is obvious. For one, it was Natasha who sought the contact for more, like her body needed to be surrounded by Maria. And that's the other thing, she feels her strength coming back to her but not only from the inside, from her ever unbreakable Black Widow counterpart, but from Maria too. She is feeding on Maria's affection to restore her energy.

Natasha has spent so much time at the Barton's she often saw something similar happening. She remembers seeing how each time Lila or Cooper were upset or crying they called out for hugs from Laura, Clint or even herself. In the quiet of the embrace they seemed able to recharge their battery somehow. She saw them becoming soft, relaxed, peaceful. Sometimes they would fall asleep on her. She didn't understand how their agitation could be fixed so easely in her arms when she wasn't doing anything except holding them clumsily as they cling on to her, but Laura told her it's all she had to do. Be there, hold them, and they will feel better. Natasha never understood this until now.

Her muscles keep releasing their tension more and more as she sinks in Maria's body more and more. She knows the woman is strong and she herself doesn't weight much, so she allows herself to it. Her grip on Maria's shoulder eases, she slides her left hand from her cheek and sneaks both arms under Maria's. A hug. Natasha is initiating a hug. Her hands come catching the black cotton shirt as she drops her temple on Maria's shoulder, her face still touching skin in the curve of her neck.

Her eyes are still closed when Maria adjusts. Soon her arms are surrounding Natasha, one around her shoulder drawing soothing patterns on her skull, the other around her arm and waist, keeping her close, grounded. Maria's head falls softly again Natasha's.

They stay in the quiet embrace for a while. Natasha doesn't count, it is like the outside world doesn't exist anymore. Even the Black Widow in her relent her watch for now. Because Maria is with her, Maria watches over her. As the time past, she doesn't remember anything, she only knows Maria's arms around her, Maria's scent, Maria's smooth skin against her. The way Maria's muscles contract just a little bit more and Natasha feels more secured, like the woman's strength allows her to be weak for a while. Maria will protect her if need be, she will keep an eye out for her. Natasha just feels it, the offer to just release everything and drift herself to sleep.

She never does that, never in her life has she allowed herself that weakness, falling asleep from exhaustion. If she is exhausted it means she is vulnerable and someone will take advantage of that. But not now. Now she has Maria. Now, her mind tells her as sleep spreads into her, now she has someone to schield her.

/

She wakes slowly. The first thing her brain registers is the scent. It is enough to keep her relaxed. Maria. Somehow along the way her subconscious has associated Maria to confort and safety. Natasha knows even before anything else comes back to her memory, she knows she is safe in this scent.

Then she realises fingers are stroking her lower head and neck in rubbing patterns, kneading with a steady pace and sending chills of decompression in every nerve of her body. With a content moan Natasha buries her face deeper in the skin.

Maria's soft chuckle vibrates under Natasha. She savours the relaxed demeanour of Maria still surrounding her, the way the strong woman can be easy, soft and caring, playful even, when they are alone together. The massage doesn't stop when Maria speaks lowly just above her ear.

'Hi'

Natasha smiles at that. She knows Maria can feel it on the skin of her neck.

'Hi'

She says back with her voice rough from sleep and deep relaxation. She drops a gratefull kiss in the curve of Maria's neck where her mouth currently lies, before pushing herself more into the embrace. Maria's arms immediatly tighten their hold, however soon the rubbing slows and stops. Natasha sighs with a playful whimper of protest, but she knows Maria is still a little worried about her.

'I'm okay now'

Maria's skin reacts at the murmur against her neck, sending goosebumps everywhere. Natasha kisses the patch of skin there and nips it just a little with her teeth. The statement and the gesture seem enough to reassure her guardian.

Moving her head off of it's cushion, Natasha caresses Maria's throat with her nose.

'Thank you' she breathes in Maria's ear. She can feel the shiver in Maria's body as Maria's hands grip a little harder into her. The way her body reacts to Natasha is entrancing. Natasha wants more of it. She brings her mouth to the earlobe and captures it with her lips, sucking slowly. Maria's surprised intake of breath is delightful. The way she tenses and flexes her fingers in Natasha ignites heat in Natasha's veins. She is fully awake now.

Natasha's hand move lower on Maria's back until her fingertips find smooth skin between short and shirt. She slides her hand under the tank top. Maria's head turns to her, her nose finding Natasha's temple as Natasha releases the ear.

'Nat...'

The deep voice sends chills in Natasha's core. It is a warning, a question. As an answer Natasha brushes the side of their faces until they come face to face. Their eyes lock in the narrow tunnel with barely no light. They are flushed against each other, Natasha feels Maria's body humming under her, its anticipation, its demand. Its arrousal. She can see it in Maria's gaze, intense blue eyes searching her. The woman is gorgeous, with her slightly sweaty skin and locks of hair here and there. Her face shows her concern and her yearning so much Natasha stops breathing. She is on fire now, her whole body humming for Maria. She licks her lips and sees the hunger past in blue eyes as they watch her tongue. Maria's breath is shallow, her fingers dig in Natasha's flesh as the passion build fast between them. They stare at each other before Natasha cannot take it anymore, this want consuming her. She releases a bestial grunt and she dives down, captures Maria'smouth. It is not slow, it is not sweet, it is a bruising kiss, a moisture of Natasha's lips sucking on Maria's, eating out her mouth. She wants more, so much more. Already her hand flyes to Maria's face, locked on her jaw, as her body presses against her. Her skin-like uniform is both a blessing and a curse, for she can almost feel Maria's heat against her but still is out of reach. Her lower belly itches, wanting to feel not only curves, beautiful, wonderful curves, but to feel skin, smooth, hot, tasty skin. Natasha is wild and animal as she moves her other hand higher under the shirt, seeking for flesh. Maria's strong back muscles sing under her touch. When Natasha feels Maria's tongue popping out to join their battle of lips, she doesn't know which of them release the moan that rings out in the tunnel. Natasha shivers with want, she feels hot, each nerve of her skin, of her mouth is so much sensitive, when Maria's hands settle on her bottom and squeeze, the amazing sensation sents bolts in her brain fonctions. She knows the whimper comes from her now, and Maria takes advantage of the sound to push her delicious tongue further, in Natasha's sucking mouth, mapping out the place, licking every curve of Natasha's tongue. The taste of Maria is addictive. She wants more. As if sensing her needs, the arms that were previously holding her in a tender embrace are now holding her harder, tense muscles pushing her arse into Maria, bringing their covered core closer under their clothes...

'Seriously Tash ?!'

Clint's voice tries to be amused and scoldish but there is clearly relief in his voice.

Shit, Natasha totally forgot about him.

To her defence, she could say that the Hawkeye is almost as silent as the Black Widow herself, and also she is still a little emotional right now. The more reasons why she hasn't seen him coming. She sighs. That's not it. She is the Black Widow, she is the perfect spy, educated to perfection and self analysation. She immediatly knows the true reason of her inattention and she admits it to herself, because it is important to know oneself in battle, and to point out how to correct one's flaws to become the perfect tool. This programming is deeply engraved in her survival set.

She sighs, because even if they are at SHIELD's facility, even if she is with the Hard Ass Deputy Director and the Hawkeye, her partner best friend, a situation where any other agent would feel allowed to relax and 'chill', she is the Black Widow. She doesn't 'chill'. Up until now she didn't know how to and she deep down never wanted to, no matter how Clint tries. She never wanted to fully drop her guard and leave herself exposed to anything. Being who she is, growing up the way she did, and having so many enemies lurking out for revenge due to her former killing jobs, she cannot 'chill' and relax, not fully at any situation. It is just not possible. She doesn't want to. It's too dangerous. The Black Widow in her doesn't want to. She can't. For whole her life since an enfant, she has always been in alert, even in her sleep. It's just who she is.

But the thing is, she just did. Without wanting to. For a moment there, she forgot about absolutly _eveything_ , too consumed by all Maria. That never happened before. Never.

And she doesn't know if she is okay with that.

As always, Clint is looking out for her. Without meaning to he pointed out a problem that Natasha will have to deal with, because it can cause a potential threat to security. She doesn't know if she can allow herself to being lost in Maria like that. She honestly doesn't think that she can.

She looks at Maria for a few seconds, the bright blue eyes now dark with the passion they just shared. Maria's gaze is open for a moment, Natasha sees she let her walls down too. She is so gorgeous right now. Their breath are mixt together by their closeness, Maria's eyes smile at her as the lust draws back, the roar fire becoming a humming under skin. The embrace relaxes, Maria's muscles ease and her hands slide from Natasha's buttom to her thighs then to the tunnel floor. It is time, they both know it. Natasha carresses her cheek tenderly with a small smile of excuse – an excuse for so much more than Barton's interruption, but she isn't ready to talk about any of that now, she needs time to think - before moving off the Commander. Without a glimps behind her, she crawls to Clint and out of the tunnel with a grunt. Her body is a little sore from the limited space she's been crunched in for one hour and twelve seconds, plus an amount of time she didn't count when she was in Maria's embrace. She lost track of time. She frowns a second at the reminder, but she is fast to wipe out her face when she turns to Clint while she stretches her limbs. It isn't really necessary, her body is used to it seeing she's been wind up in worse spaces than this tunnel. For a moment her brain shows her an image of the training box. She learned a lot about the dark, patience and anatomy flexibility while she was left in the box for days on out without food or water. She is able to hide in any tiny places now. This tunnel's structure is nothing to her body. Still, she is a tool only usefull when every piece is working at it's fullest. Her body is her primal survival asset, she makes a point at taking care of it.

Barton is waiting for her on her left as she stretches and pops her bones into place with practice ease. He watches as she casualy takes pause against the wall with her arms crossed, a feet on the wall, waiting for Maria to fallow. She is guarded, she knows it, Clint knows it as well. He knows her. He knows she isn't ready yet and she knows he will wait. The Bruce encounters seems far away now, this trigger problem replaced by her response to Maria. She is tensed right now and she doesn't know what to do. Once again, she is lost. Very aware of the hawk watching her, she wants to betray nothing of her inner turmoil, but it's Clint that is facing her, and they are alone. He earned her trust and her friendship a long time ago, he tought her to be more open, to let him read her. He tought her that it was okay to be human and to feel emotions. She is still learning, they both know that, and he is patient, but they made progress over the years. _She_ made progress over the years. She owns it to him, and to herself, to let her guard drop.

There are so many confusing emotions pulsing under her blank mask.

Slowly, she releases her tension and breathes deeper. She doesn't meet his eyes first, feeling ambarrassed as always when he finds her like this. By now it became a routine for them. He is waiting for her to drop the pretend and she does. As always she sighs, uncrosses her arms and chances a glance in his direction. He is worried. He is relieved too. He waits.

'I'm fine'

She tries to reassure him but she can't help but avoid his eyes.

'Tash'

She is watching the floor, waiting for Maria to come out of the tunnel so they can move out and join the rest of the personnal. There must be something to do, and if not, she'll go to the gym. Punching stuff always helps her get rid of the lingering emotions that visit her sometimes. She's not one to talk about it.

The Bruce thing, she can put words on it -but she won't -, it is an old wound she already knows about, already talked about with Fury once – which makes her think he put her in this situation with the Hulk for a reason. About Maria though, she can't. She can't even think about it right now. It's still fresh, new, she needs more data, and more time.

Maria still doesn't show. She is giving them a little bit of time for themselves. She must have guessed Barton needs it. The truth is, Natasha needs it too. HZr friend is an anchor to her right now. He is familiarity.

'Tash, look at me. Tasha'

Clint's voice is low, steady. She doesn't look. He sighs. He walks to her and Natasha can now see his SHIELD standard black boots pointing toward her. It is their ritual.

She knows what comes next and she secretly waits for it.

Clint sighs once more, his tone more playful now. With the roughness of the awkward family they became, he grabs her shoulders at arms's lengh, her eyes still to the floor. Natasha's hands go to his forearms, gripping at him like she always does. Like a thank you, like an apology, like a promess. She is okay now. If not quite, then she will be. She doesn't look at him when he steps into her, but she welcomes the hug all the same. The rough hug of the man she loves as she would a brother, she supposes now that her view on love has recently change she understands that it is love that she feels toward him. Her hands are clunching his shoulders from below, her chin resting on his right shoulder. She closes her eyes thight.

The embrace is always short and intense, a reassurance of their bond, of their connection. Clint has always been the one to really get her, without a word. He knows her like he can read her, not all the lines but the big lines, the lines that count. Like she is a book with pages of color, and even if he can't read the words and know the subject of the page, he can see the color of the print, the feeling underneath. Yes, even when her training made her the perfect spy and assassin, she never fully became a tool. She was still human. That's what he saw in her. He was the first to look. At the beginning, so long ago, she made herself closed off and unreadable with her usual Black Widow routine, but he still saw her clearly behind her mask. It used to grit on her nerves, even if she didn't show it to anyone. His playfull side seemed always more highten when she was around, but she finally realised that he was looking at her like a teammate worth of his time and attention. Worth meeting the real him too. The Hawkeye was as loner as she was, but he liked her, she had no idea why. Maybe he recognised the broken in her as a reflection of him. With her, he could be the real himself, not the insipid stoic monosyllabic version he exposed to SHIELD. With her he was a funny bastard with good intention and a cheesy smile full of shit. She became used to his banter over the years. She welcomed it.

Now they are hugging in a hallway and it is nice, it is okay, he is allowed to do it and even if she never tells him she likes it, she lets him know as she tightens her hold on his shoulder for two seconds more before he releases her. He steps back, their eyes meet briefly and he clears his throat. The man is a teddy bear full of emotions. Natasha loves him. She gives him a half smile and bumps his shoulder with hers. He chuckles.

'Whatever' he says with a sarcastic tone. 'Beer ?'

She smirks at him, their sensitive moment finished.

'Vodka'

'I second that' comes an other voice from behind them with a resounding note. The Commander straightens in her usual stance after crawling out of the vent. Well, _Maria_ does, because she doesn't look like the Deputy Director of anything right now, with her hair wildly escaping their pony tail, her black shirt and black short with black sneakers on. She looks like she should be training on a gym mat, not crawling in tunnels, but she makes do with her usual maner and places her hands on her hips with her head high.

Natasha quircks an eyebrow at her, a smile threatens to force itself on her lips. Her guard is still down and she doesn't know how to put it back up when Maria looks at her like this, fiercly awkward. The three of them have no social skills.

Maria clears her throat.

'I mean, if you don't mind me joining.'

The blush that creeps on her neck is cute when she swallows and scolds her figure into one of the Deputy Director Hill. Her posture clearly warns them to ignore her embarrassment if they know what is good for them. She is the one pointing out the missions. Natasha really doesn't want to be grounded, and Clint better read the warning now. She knows his big mouth runs a little too much freely sometimes when he is off duty. Before Barton's unpredictable reaction pops its head, Natasha takes the ball.

'Of course' her low voice, still hoarse from her little emotion feast, answers quickly. She chances a glance in Clint's direction and for now he seems to battle between being in mission mode, the Agent facing his Commander, or not. She knows the feeling. It is new to her too, to be at ease with Maria _and_ Clint in the same space. With Clint, she is the familiar Natasha she learned to be, but with Maria she is a Natasha she doesn't understand yet. A Natasha that scares her sometimes. Like when they were in the tunnel minutes ago. Those Natasha are not the same, and she doesn't know which one to pick.

There is a beat of awkward silence where everyone tries to adjust. Maria's face is contorted and it is clear she is thinking of a way out of this. Her impulsive request to join wasn't something she herself thought about before saying it. It just came out of her. The proper, controled Commander is losing her footing too, apparently. Natasha is glad she's not the only one.

The change in Maria lasts a second, she is about to open her mouth and make out an excuse to leave, Natasha sees it clearly, when their eyes lock. Natasha's chest jumps.

'Come' she bursts out on impulse. Seems like the talking before thinking thing is contagious. She bits her lip before her mouth decides to say anything else without her conscent. Their eyes are still deeply locked when Maria's small smile appears. The teasing-caring smile that Natasha really likes to see. Natasha knows she is blushing now.

'Alright then' Maria's voice is sure and light. She drops her hands to her side, her body relax. Natasha is about to close the distance when, next to her, Clint brushes his short hair on the top of his head, clears his throat with a playfull 'huh, hum !' effectively shattering their moment and reminding them of his presence.

Natasha forgot about him again.

She looks to the side and frowns.

'Vodka time, ladies !'

Apparently he has decided which Clint he would be on this encounter.

Quickly Natasha erases her concern and tunnes herself to Clint's playfullness. This, she is familiar with. Gracely, she jumps left and right in the corridor, using the walls as rebounding boards, distancing herself from them. She needs a second to compose herself. For now, she decides, she cannot relie on the Natasha she is being with Maria. It isn't right. She will need time and retrospect to make it right. But now isn't the time. So now, she will be the Natasha she learned to be with Clint, this one she can be without a scratch, no problem. She comes to her conclusion when she stops her dance at the end of the hall. She turns arround with a playfull glint in her eyes.

'Are you coming then ?' she asks with the innocent tone she knows Clint will take as the challenge it is. The circus entertainer that he was sparks at the opening. Bending his muscles with a mischievious glint in his eye he leaps up and starts on his own demonstration of acrobatic flips, taking up speed and adding complicated moves as he goes. Show off. Natasha is amused by the joy obviously shining out of him when her gaze finds Maria's as the woman casualy walks toward them. For a moment their eyes lock and Natasha feels herself spiraling once again in her oblivious state. When she recognises the symptoms she quikly cuts the exchange and blinks, focusing on Clint.

Okay, no eye contact for a while then.

Clint finished his last complicated flip with a thud barely noticable. He is a better arrow bird than he is a quiet fighter when it comes to spying, but, as he once pointed out, when he finds himself in need to fight it means that the spy part is over, so it doesn't matter if his moves are not soundless as hers. To him it is true, to Natasha it isn't. She often finds herself in need to eliminate inconveniences quickly and noiselessly as to keep her cover. Her moves are always silent and neat. She also knows the right chemicals necessary to erase her body count in a tub. Dropping a corps at sea definitly has her preferency. To each it's skill.

She chances a glance in Maria's direction. The Deputy Director is still stiff, but her demeanour tries to relax. Nothing in her shows she noticed Natasha avoiding her gaze. Good. Natasha doesn't want any more headache coming her way. Her personnal life is enough complicated as it is. Years ago she didn't have a personnal life. Sometimes she still thinks life, back then, was maybe bloodier and lonely -dark-, but it seems to have been easier too.

'I need a drink' she almost whines when Barton finishes his entertainer's salute with a practised smile, waving at his imaginary fans.

' You and me both, girlfriend' He says, his fake smile still on. Natasha knows the presence of the Deputy Director is a hard pill to swallow for him. The man is allergic to authority figures.

'I suggest we go to your bunk though' Maria joins in with what looks like a friendly smile. She tries. Even as Natasha avoid looking at her directly, she still sends her a gratefull smile. She knows it is hard for Maria to drop the Commander stance arround... anyone as fare as she knows. Even with Coulson or Carter she looks always stiff.

Maria doesn't say more and she doesn't have to. They all know that Maria's quarters are not an option to relax, because the woman is the Hard Ass Commander and she is _always_ on call, always available even in her sleep for anything. She has this reputation and so her agents go for her, night and day if they know she is arround. If they go in her room they are sure to be interrupted.

Better go to Natasha and Clint's bunk if they want to get off the gride.

Natasha feels warmth spread in her chest as she realises Maria would prefer spend her time with her than on duty. She knows how running the Agency is important to the Commander, how she lives duty to the core in every heartbeat. It is not a small thing for her to choose to be with Natasha instead. The sentiment makes Natasha ashamed of her earlier avoidance. Maria doesn't deserve her closing off on her, not when she is herself trying very hard to open herself to Natasha.

'Well it's a given' Clint retorts with a snort. Cause the Deputy's place is absolutly not a 'chill out' environnement, he says immediatly with a laugh, waving his hand dismissing the very bad visual of them drinking there. This office is upthight, no way he's gonna relax inthere, he adds without a care of Hill's glare directed to him.

'Okay then, let's go' Natasha intervens before the pist off Maria can step closer to the oblivious Hawkeye. The man is just asking for trouble, she needs to shut him up. She goes next to him, grips his shoulder a little too hard as a warning that he choses to not understand seeing as he looks at her with a raised eyebrow, and she pushes him further. Thankfully their bunk is close by, the vodka is calling to her from afare.

'Good for me' Maria grites on her other side, joining in. She visibly breathes and tries to relax her nerves. For Natasha. For Natasha, Maria tries to tolerate Clint's behavior. She knows how important he is to her.

Natasha loops her arm with Clint as they walk. She is glade Barton stayed with her while she was having an episode. From most of them she can get out by herself, desapearing into the wild without a word to anyone, reappearing days later like nothing happened, but today she couldn't let Bruce alone waiting to the evac. Well, she could have, the man being the Hulk can certainly manage without her, but she felt responsable somehow. She didn't want to let the Hulk get loose with no marking point if she could help it, it would have been counterproductive after weeks of work creating what she might call the beginning of a bound with the Big Guy. Trust and reliablity are keys. So, she stayed until the very moment when Banner was in good hands, but by then they were already in the sky and she had no way out to isolate and deal with her little problem.

Natasha knows it is the child part of her that still fears the brutal strength of her opponent. She rationaly knows she can handle them, she developed many skills for it. Most of the time she would just erase the threat with poison, a thrown knife or a sniper shot. She knows all the ways to avoid physical contact, but even when her target surprises her – which is rare and only when she is under cover with no access to all the information regarding the situation - seduction and desguise are enough to get close and hit for the kill in one motion. If not, she can manage a fight with her speed and light weight, dance around her opponent, tireing them off and slicing deep in their skin with every knife move poison knives that spread fast, each time going for the weak spots or the tendons or arteries, desembling them in minutes. Natasha knows all this, but still, her childish fear resumes. She doesn't think of it, she doesn't give it any attention because she knows how to keep it locked in a box deep in her mind. It never bother her in the field, her body reflexes and thrive to survival mixt with adrenaline are enough to make her move, fight and kill anyone in any situation, like the perfectly oiled machine she is. To her, her childish fear is nothing more than, a shadow somewhere in her past, the scar of her upcoming that doesn't prevent her from being deadly efficient and always successfull. So, she never delt with it. She never had to. Sometimes, very rarely, she just takes some time by herself _after_ the mission, because sometimes, very rarely, some of her missions reminds her of moments she would rather forget.

But with the Hulk assignment, she was face to her demons with a high schell, and she couldn't walk out for weeks. It was the mission to stay and deal. So she had no choice but to face her demons. Faced with the memory of Sergei chooking her, of Alexei bitting her, of all the grown men grabbing her frale form, the form of a child barely seven years old trying to learn as fast as she could to survive this place, but never fast enough to escape their hands, their fists and their boots. Not for the first years. After that, she was fast, she moved everywhere, she found their weak spot and she managed to slip her slim body away from their grasp. That came after, but the lingering terror of the beginning is still there, deep. Facing the Hulk non-stop for _weeks_ , Natasha found herself facing her shadows, her bleeding scars, the dark memories of her past that she managed to never think about before since her opponent always were so easy to trick and kill – or sedate after she joined the Agency. Her deep past, her childhood, she left it all behind, she never talked about it. Her therapists didn't push her, they only made sure she was fully deprogrammed from her previous KGB training, that she was aware of SHIELD's views about peace, protocols and line of work. They kept her in line, but never forced her to a proper therapy. They knew she wouldn't go for it. It isn't mandatory. They never force anyone into therapy, even when some of the agents in this boat probably should, with the shitty past they all have. They are not much, in the Helicarrier, to have their origine in the darkness, but Natasha sees them as they see her each time they cross path. They don't talk. They don't have to. They just see each other. It doesn't mean they form a club, it doesn't mean they form any bond or any friendship of any kind. It just means that they are not the only fucked up agent in this ship, and somehow that makes it easier. She feels less out of place.

Natasha is not the only one with a dark past. That thought helps to find peace about it all. To find peace with her past dids. She thought she was at peace, she even developed love in her life. But then she had to go on a mission with Banner, and all of her past came crashing at her door like a punch in the guts, demanding to be heard with no way out. A Nick Fury shock therapy.

She remembered the first time she couldn't move because of fear.

She remembered the terror, cold in her veins. Paralised.

She remembered the first time she was touched, the first bruise, the first hot pain of being grabbed with a thight grip.

She remembered the first time she tasted blood on her cut lip, or the first time she heard her bone break under a hard bitting.

She remembered the first time she was raped, and all the times after.

She remembered the helplessness, each time when she didn't move fast enough, when she didn't fight back hard enough.

She remembered death floating many times beside her like a crow.

Yes, at some point in her childhood a spark inside her core had set fire to her spirit and truely made her a fighter, tooth and nails. Yes, she moved out of her fear and found her balance. Yes she dodged and grited her teeth. She hit back. Harder. Stronger. Faster. She was angry, then cold, then she realised her body, her curves, her sexuality could be a good distraction, making her attackers unfocused. She used that too. She learned to smirk, to tempt, to tease. Then to strike. She stopped being the monse and she became the cat, playing with them, with their weakness for her curves. When seduction didn't work, she tried other approche, taunting them, insulting them. The easy insult didn't work on their nerves so she developed her own way to annoy them. At that point, she had created her signature behavior, coy and wit, and she felt nothing, she was a void. That's when they stopped the hard sauvage fighting and started training her, teaching her moves. Her tormentors became her mentors without a care. She didn't care either. All in all, she became a deadly machine, even in the face of massive men full of muscles she would just smirk, taunt, flirt. And win.

She choose to remember that part of the training only. The part when she overcomed and became the perfect assassin she was meant to be. She never looked back to the beginning of it all. The Hulk forced her to.

Clint turns right in the next hallway. Natasha doesn't glance aside to Maria, she knows she can't keep being lost in her eyes, but that doesn't mean she can't reach out to her. She casualy lets her hand fall between them. The back of her hand brushes regularly against Maria's, and each time she feels a shiver running up her arm that makes her want to smile. Her lips curve in the side of her mouth as she looks down, feeling shy sudenly. Damn, she is losing her control again. Even without eye contact. The mere presence of Maria near her is enough to burst out her focus. She keeps walking, hesitates to retrieve her hand, as Clint disconnects their arms and goes right to a more opened area, leaving the noisy vent behind.

At the sixth brush of their hands, when Natasha is about to move her hand to her belt, Maria catches her fingers and tangles their hands. Natasha can't help the smile that spreads on her lips at the touch, her eyes still on the path they're on. Maria squeezes her hand a little and she responds in kind, feeling giddy, her belly trembles even as she tries to remain focus on her surroundings. She feels happy, she knows, it is a feeling she is still getting used to. After being long away on missions, it always feels strange to reintroduce herself to... her personnal life with playfull Clint and caring Laura, but it is that most difficult now that her personnal life became complicated with other feelings she tries to reins on. Even if she is happy, she is unconfortable. Her stomach agrees with a knot and a shiver laced with clumsyness and wearyness. She swallows and keeps an eye arround, trying to ignore the hand in hers as her whole being only wants to focus on the touch. She clenches her jaw and forces her mind to focus on the hallway, the people, assessening potential threats like she always do when she is awake. But even her rational mind is compromised by her fluttering heart, each time wanting to concentrate only on the thumb gently carressing the back of her hand, on the heat next to her, on the glimpse of naked skin at her periphery.

She swallows.

She is coming off a long assignment with the monstrous Hulk that left her raw and unbalanced, she still feels the scars on her soul fresh as if they were made yesterday and bleeding still, and yet here she is, holding hands with Maria in the hallway in the SHIELD Agency where everything is good and right and giddy and _so strange_. It feels good and out of place, like a dream too sweet to be true, that she shouldn't dare to hope for, making her unsure, both happy and reserved.

She is a mess.

She needs to drink.

Thanksfully the next turn is to the opened gate of the sleeping quarters. Since they are in a commun area of SHIELD's Agents's quarters, Clint, Natasha and Maria's faces are blank even if no-one is arround. Their hands unlock. They both need to keep their blooming relationship private, for many reasons they don't even have to talk about. It is natural both for Maria and for Natasha to act like nothing has changed between them. Except for Agent Hill being seen walking with Natasha and Clint toward their bunk. Maria quickens the pace. She isn't in her element. The Deputy Director has no business being in her agentst's private quarters, and she surely shouldn't be wearing sport outfits instead of her usual uniform.

She stops midstep however, stand still in the middle of the hallway and turns her head to the duo behind her with her cheeks slightly pink. She clears her throat, regaining her infamous Commander Hill attitude, hands behind her back and waits for them to catch up. She doesn't know where their bunk is. Natasha hides her amusement and walks by her, brushing her shoulder to Maria's arm innocently, keeps walking and stops to her door, the sixth on the right. As protocal their initials are curved in the small panel, enough to indicate their habitant but not enough to know exactly who lives down there. Clint isn't hidding his smirk when he joins her, Hill on his heels. Natasha sends him a warning glance, dismissed with a shrug of shoulder in his usual -privatly- carefree maner, before opening the unlocked door. No point in locking their door in a ship full of spies, some among them being specialists on entering every sort of closed compartment. The quarters of the Agency are not here for privacy anyway, it's a quiet space where one can relax and take a nape between ops, nothing more. If they want real privacy, they can go to their own apartement on the ground.

Natasha doesn't have a place of her own anywhere. The closest she ever had to it are the locations she uses to hide under the radar, patch up her wounds before turning to an other mission. No really homy, but she didn't know what a home was then. Before she was abduct and brought to Laura's doorstep. Now that she understands the idea of a home, she isn't sure she can make any room, apartement or house look like that, feel like that. Unless she hires Laura to make it homy for her. Naw, she better go spend as much quality time as she can directly at the Bartons where her really comfy couch is always waiting for her. A few times this year Clint joked about building an extension to the house so Natasha could have a proper room. She knows Clint enough now to know he wasn't kidding and is probably already calculating the blueprints and everything. The man loves working on their home, the treehouse and all the garden's supplies are proof of his dedication to his family. Natasha knows Clint is waiting on her to take the hint and give him an answer. He's been dropping massive allusions to it for a while now, losing his subtlety as always when his patience wears thin. As an agent, Hawkeye has an illimited patience on supplies, but as a family man he tends to whine and trump his foot like a child, his two sides making Natasha raise her eyebrow each time he starts complaining at home, because she knows he can behave himself if need be. The thing is, he doesn't want to, not when in private, not with his family. He wants to be able to be himself with the quiet of the farm, and be spontanious, not controlled, not restrained like a good soldier. Natasha is still at the point in her life where she understands the difference now, she does, she sees it in him everytime she goes to the Barton's, and she is trying to take exemple from him, she is trying to be a spontanious Natasha. Of course, she'll never tell Clint she takes him as an exemple to fallow or he'll never let this down.

And now, Clint has already decided he's going to be himself, his private self, as they enter the bunk and he goes straight to the cabinet, not even bothering to unscratch his gear. He was coming off a mission of his own, some surveillance thing to gather data before sending Natasha in for the undercover part – she doesn't even know what this time is about and she doesn't care, she trusts Clint to have her back – when they crossed path and he took off after her when she couldn't stop to talk or reassure him. He takes the transparent bottle of liquor, set it on the table next to the little closet where they keep their small food supplie. The table is already full with crubs of tea cups, empty bowls of noodle soup and sodas cans, and yes, Natasha realises this place is a mess. The sheets on the beds are unfold, she remembers throwing the pillow back on the mattress before leaving - as always when each time she wakes up the damn thing has fallen on the floor during sleep. There are comics books lying arround on the floor and under Clint's bed, an other dirty cup of something under Natasha's own and, well, a few clothes here and there ready to be washed.

So, they are not the cleany type, but can anyone expect from them ? He is a former con artiste slash exotic dancer slash acrobat thief and she is... well, she is the Black Widow. She is no housewife.

Clint takes a taste directly from the bottle like they always do and Natasha goes to her bed. She tidy the sheet and blanket quickly, shufles with the pillow to make it bigger, confortable, she doesn't know, and she pats it some more when she puts it on the mattress against the wall at the feet of her bed. Clint raises an eyebrow at her and she shruges before turning to Maria with a motion of her hand toward her work, offering her to sit there. The tall, proud woman that is the Commander seems to be baffled by the scene and she doesn't see Natasha waving to her yet. She is too busy taking in the place and it's bare, impersonal walls. Natasha knows most other agents like to put pictures and posters on their bunk, some use a string to hang a curtain between the beds for some sort of bundaries and such, trying to make a little home to it. After all they are mostly living on these quarters, and once assign it is rare to change the room, so can decorate as they please, appart from painting the regular grey walls. Many has brought couch, tv, books and games, Clint and Natasha didn't. She moved in with him after her deprogramming, when Fury decided Clint had made a connexion to her and since he decided to notkill her she was his responsability and it was only right that he should be the first to be killed when his fuck up comes bitting at his ass – his words – so they've been living together for a long time. They moved to a new place since he was previously sharing with an other agent, and from there they found their groove. It is simple really. They clean when they want to, they eat when they want to, they sleep when they want to. Easy. And a little messy. But, well, it works for them.

When Maria scans the place her eyes land on something that makes her stop and smiles a little in the corner of her mouth. Natasha recognises the special grin she is trying to repress, probably out of privaty for Clint's very loud presence grunting at each swallow of alcohol, so she fallows the line of her gaze and sees the cover of the book she left somewhere in her bed before going with Banner. Harry Potter. As it turns out, it is quite nice to read someone else's fantasy life, and certainly to fall asleep on it. Even if those characters are each annoying in their own way, she finds herself coming back to it, just to be in an other univers for a while.

Clint is noisely taking off his gear now, dropping his fingerless gloves on the table next to what looks like an old pizza crust, zipping off his multipockets vest and putting it on the only chair of the place - the only furniture being at its proper place, under the table next to the still opened door. He snatches the bottle again and doesn't bother losing the belt full of hidden items when he walks to his bed – exactly three steps away from the table – and crash on the mattress with a grumph.

Maria's face is contort with an expression of puzzled disgust before her inner Commander kicks in.

'You need to report your gear and weapons to the storage, Agent' she snaps out of habit. Natasha and her are still standing in the little room with a smirking Barton looking bored. They all know better than to fall for that look.

'Maybe' is all he says and Maria's all stance goes rigid. His taunting nonchalance sets her on the offence.

'It is protocal' Her voice is cold, anyone could hear the threat, even an infant. Clint blatently ignores it with a gulp of his liquid. Natasha goes for the cabinet where the set of untouched glasses awaits. They never use it, always drinking from the bottle makes glasses irrelevents. But now, she figures, they have a guest, so she dugs the things out, clinging in her hand – she takes three, knowing already that Clint will fallow her lead even if goinr grumpy about it – and goes for the bottle. She grabs it and Clint tightens his grip, just to piss her off. Great, he is in a mood. What can possibly make him so grim ? Ah, yes, the authority figure standing in front of him, in his private quarter. He has a point.

She better light things up quick.

She stares at him untill he looks back at her, his stuburn frown in place. It doesn't take long for him to sigh and release his hold and she nods once, telling silently that she has his back but he better behave. They are all in this boat now. Weither he likes it or not, Maria is in the picture and she is not desapearing. He better accept it, fast. His fingers slip totally from the bottle and she steps out to her bed, sending a glance to the still opened door. Clint takes the exit opportunity, moves the bunch of clothes and sheets on the mattress before finding his towel. With the ability of the brilliant gymnastic he is under his current groaning behaviour, he bolts to the door without a word. He is out in a second with a smack for shuting the door a little too loud, leaving the previously growing tension melt slowly like a pierced balloon licking its air. A few seconds more and Maria breathes deeply with a sigh, a hand on her forehead, dropping her square shoulders and relaxing her stance. Natasha lets her be and goes for her bed, settling next to the spot she tidied for her guest. She is still wearing her own operation clothes, but Maria doesn't say a word about that. She must have realise that it isn't her place to point it out, not in here, not in this private moment. She can't be Commander Hill now, but she let it slipped with Clint and it is clear, as she rubs her neck awkwardly, still standing in the middle of the bunk, that she feels sheepish about it.

Natasha decides to let her regain some composture while she sets Clint's glass on the ground and fills the others to the half way up. It feels bizarre, drinking from a glass, somehow it makes her more aware of the quantity of her consumption. Usualy she drinks, and drinks, and drinks some more until the bottle is empty and Clint is on the floor while she is snickering about the last comic book story he is hooked about, waving her hands to make her point about the absurdity of it all. A Clint drunk is so very entertaining. When she drinks and drinks and the liquor doesn't affect her but clearly affects him, she never loses an opportunity to tease the little Clinty about his secret and obvious crush on Rogue, and she absolutly enjoys the ways he indignantly yels at her when she compares him to the Diablo character with a heavy accent. It's too easy.

Maria sighs and finally joins Natasha on the bed, elbow on her knees, feet on the ground. She doesn't say sorry, there is no need, they both know she is.

'I'm not good at this' Maria's low voice says in the silence, gaze to the floor.

It's Natasha's turn to sigh. She nudges a glass on Maria's vision.

'None of us are'

And it's true. After years working for SHIELD Natasha has come to the conclusion that there are three categories of agents. Those coming straight from a strict, patriotic education, probably with a police or military background and a family history of service, those being little punks left out, misunderstood, not quite feeting but with a big brain and a lot of crazy ideas about technology and stuff, a mix of rebel and gueek spirit, and then, there is the last category, the one of broken souls and highly trained monsters from the hell underground. She knows where Clint and herself go, but as for Maria she isn't sure in which box she checks in. She always sensed Hill has a heavy history of her own, and her recent thin but uge revelations about herself – the protective power thing and her abusive father – only confirm it.

Maria nods while taking the glass. She doesn't look up when she glups it in one go. She grunts and makes a face.

'That stuff is nasty'

Natasha smirks and settles a little more on the mattress. She crosses her legs indian style, not bothered by the two guns still holstered at both thighs. Her skin tight black SHIELD uniform has been made specialy for her as she requiered years ago upon taking on her first ops for the Agency. The tech team wasn't thrilled about it at first, since it was for the deadly unfamous Black Widow, but their search for new technology and improvement quickly get past the small detail about it's final wearer as they came with lots of ideas to make the cloth a weapon on it's on. Natasha knows every curve of this clothing, every pocket and every hidden item it contains. She is the only one, -except for the tech ingenery and the classified document they filed – to know the real potentiel of the uniform. As she did all thing in true ex-KGB assassin fashion, she trained with it, slept with it, ate with it, did every mundane thing while dressed in her black skin, so she is familiar with it like it's an extension of her own flesh. The thing even regulate her temperature. She drinks her own vodka the same way Maria did, only she doesn't blink an eyelash at the burn in her throat. She is used to it. Being immune to alcohol effect was part of her training. She half expects Maria to ask for a scotch instead, but the woman leans back on one hand, holding on the glass with the other in the general direction of the bottle on Natasha's lap.

They stay silent for a while, nursing their second drink. Natasha likes it when she is with people able to stay quiet. She avoids noisy people as much as possible, even when the annoyness can be undearing – like this doctor Simmons for exemple, of this Darcy person she met once briefly with Thor - it still makes her wanting to punch them in the face or sneak out to the closest exit. Natasha is more confortable in silence and lonelyness. Never the less she is the one finaly speaking up in the quiet of the bunk, because as she feels Maria relaxed now she also remarks her constant glances in her direction. Her worried glances.

'I'm fine now' Natasha murmurs softly, not meeting her eyes. She takes a sip. 'Thank you'

'Of course' Maria answers as softly and takes her own glass to her lips. 'You know, if you want to talk about it, or to go punch something to the gym... I can listen or hold the bag for you'

'How about a drinking buddy ?' Natasha raises the still opened bottle and drinks directly from it, forgetting the proper manner she started with. She hides her wince. She never uses the word 'buddy', not when she isn't under cover playing dumb. She is nervous. Great. Now her body and her mouth start getting loose _again_.

'I shouldn't' Maria stares at her glass, the liquid dances in her hand. 'I'm on call'

Natasha reads under the simple words. Maria has been with her for a long time now, and she never once made it feels like she would rather be somewhere else. But she has responsabilities, duties and a ship to govern for it not to sink. She is the Deputy Director and basicaly the unofficial boss of the whole Agency, the head of the world most powerful security program. And she is hanging out in here, in the shitty messy bunk of two of her best assets and more deranged human beings, offering her time and her care to Natasha, the Black Widow.

'I can keep you company though, if that's okay'

Maria shifts on the bed, unconfortable. Feeling bold and wanting to convein how much having Maria with her now is a gift she adknowledges, Natasha puts her hand on a bare shoulder, settling at the curve of the neck.

'I'd like that'

She watches as the thumb starts tracing random pattern on the smooth skin under Maria's ear. She sees the shiver at it waves through the Commander at the touch. The alcohol is all but forgotten as Natasha finds herself once again sucked in a time loop of too much feeling and not enough control. She is losing her feeting fast as her fingertips fallow the arc of the neck, the lose of brown hair. She wants to free those locks from their restrain and her hand goes for the rubben before her brain can make any decision. Her body is moving on it's own accord once more and she knows, she knows that if Maria turns her head right now, if she crosses her eyes, she'll be lost.

With the last shred of control she can muster under those circonstances, even as she hears the sweet melody of Maria's breath coming out shorter than before, Natasha finds the will to not distangle her hair. Swallowing hard, she drops her hand on the mattress between them, cutting the contact between their skin.

But it is too late, she realises, because even as they are not touching anymore, she still feels Maria like an invisible carress under her uniform, and it makes her breath itchs. Her fingertips stretch on the sheet, inching closer to the bare thigh right there, but she clenches her fist to keep it still. She is raking her malfonctionning brain to keep up with the conversation, even as she can't remember what they were talking about, which annoys her to no end and makes her grites her teeth. She tries to focus on that, on the disconfort that brings her unbalanced state, uncontroled and unfocused, but then Maria's hand left her glass on the floor and comes touching her chin. Natasha hasn't realised she dropt her head at some point, her eyes sulely focused on her fist and her sweaty palm begging to reach out. However Maria's fingers gently brush at her cheek, at her jaw, they hook and they pull, and all she can do is fallow the silent request. She knows she shouldn't, she wants to retract her face like she retracted her hand, but something in her, this new thing she doesn't understand, makes her yeald and surrender. Her last shred of resolve vanishes in an explosion in her chest when she meets the bright bleu eyes and the tender smile. And she is lost.

She is lost in blue ocean, in peacefullness and easy, in freedom and lightness. Her heart flutters and she can't breath, there is only the fierce bleu, kind and inviting. Promessing.

'Hi' Maria says with her special smile only for Natasha.

'Hi' Natasha says back breathlessly.

There is a glint in blue then, a sudden hunger, a call for touch and Natasha's core hears it well, Natasha's whole being cries for it too. She barely notices Maria's fingers playing with loose of her long curling red hair, she is too immerged by the blue siren coming closer as the space between them seems to desapear inch by inch. It is like gravity, it is like coming up for air and she can't remember why she wanted to stop it minutes ago. She can't remember anything, in fact, and she doesn't _care_.

But then, the hunger in Maria's eyes shifts and becomes gentle, the want becomes soft entrancing melody. When their foreheads meet, Natasha closes her eyes for a second, Maria's finger still playing in her curls.

'You're here' Maria's voice is full of wonder. There is a pause as they both feel the reality of their reunion. 'I missed you' Natasha can hear the shyness in the strong Commander, and she smiles with her eyes still closed. She feels delighted and playfull as her smile stretches more and more. She doesn't want to open her eyes, not yet, she wants to swim in the sensation, because she feels it now, at last, the quiet yearning that accompagnied her during her time away without knowing it, with each breath each day every day, the small squeeze in her chest and the heavyness that shadowed her steps. When Maria says the words, Natasha realises what was the strange pressure inside her, and how it seems to desappear now that they are together again, without any drama in the way.

Her eyes bolt wide open. 'I missed you too' And she knows there is wonder in her voice too.

It is so strange, to live a usual situation with such a different impression. It is not the first time Natasha goes dark for a mission, usualy for weeks or months with only scripted notes to Clint on dropping points. It is not the first time she comes back to the Agency, to the people she knows and that know her, the real her – she can count them in one hand though, there is Clint, Laura of course, the children, and there is Coulson too. But now it feels totally different, now that she comes back to find Maria. It always felt nice to be in privates moments with friend before, first reluctantly then openly smiling slightly, but now in Maria's quiet hold with her fingertips lightly brushing her jaw, her ear, everything they can reach with their caress, she feels... so much more.

Natasha knows what missing someone is, she understood the first year when she came to care for Laura, Cooper and Lila. Each time she joined them there was this sensation, and Laura tought her what it was. To miss someone. To be happy to be reunited with them. Only, with Maria, it is stronger and it makes her feel like gelly.

Maria's smile is small, content. Their heads are still connected and she won't stop sliding her hand in red curls. Natasha like the feel of her touch on her. It feels so intimate.

'Can i kiss you ?'

She feels it too. She silently agrees with Maria, it's been too long since they touched, since she tasted her lips, the velvet of her mouth and the murmur of her moans. Still grinning like a fool, Natasha doesn't answer but leans the rest of the way to a waiting mouth and then she is not smiling anymore, she is dancing softly, her lips to Maria's in a quiet hello. There is no rush as she feels Maria's breath on her face, as the fingers clench around her jaw and a hand finds a place on her side, so close to her left breast that a thumb brushes the outside of it slowly. Natasha's own hands chose to move on their own, forgetting her empty glass and clapsed bottle. She hooks her fingers behind Maria's open neck while the other sneaks under the shirt in the small of her back. She feels the bare skin shiver.

Their bodies hum with satisfaction as they restore the start of a connection, after weaks bring away for each other.

Wanting more, her growing need makes Natasha's tongue dart its head, asking for entrance. Immediatly Maria complies with a sound close to relief, she greets Natasha with her own. The sweet taste and scent of sweat lingers on Maria's skin, and when Maria sucks on Natasha's tongue with a new vigor the mixt sensations sends chills to her core. The moan that escape Natasha's throat is so foreign to her own ears she doesn't realise she is the one doing it. But she is. She is melting in Maria's embrace, her senses tunned only to her, when their chest come flush and hands come full cercle around waists and necks, the gentle hold becomes wilder. It is beyond her from the start, the way her body reacts to this woman as it has it's personnal agenda, seeking out contact, flesh, breathless sounds of extasy.

'So, doest that mean i should knock from now on ? '

The manly voice bursts their moment like a bucket of water. Natasha feels the jolt of control coming back to her to punch her hard. Their mouth disconnect instantly and they are breathing hard, but for Natasha it isn't about passion anymore. Or it is, but it's more about the conscequence of it. She lost control again. She cut herself from everything that was not Maria. And she didn't hear Clint coming.

Clenching her jaw, she distances herself from the panting Maria on the bed. She almost stands, but then she sees something, she sees Maria. Hill seems torn between keeping her soft crumbled self, keeping the private Maria, opened or retrieve behind her Commander walls. Even as Natasha lives her own personal tourmoil right now, she sees her compagnion's behavior and assesses the situation coldly.

Well, on the good note it looks like her capacity to think, calculate and assess her surroundings in one go is back into place.

Turning on the mattress Natasha forces herself to stay sitted. She knows her body is stiff and her stare is hard now, she is mad at herself for letting go of her vigilance. But she'll have to deal with it later. Clint is raising an eyebrow at her, leaning against the doorframe of the open bunk, his towel hanging at his naked hips, drops of water everywhere. He always says he likes to let the water dry by itself. Right now, he is looking at her with a slight grin on his face, there is amusement but there is concern too. He knows her better perhaps than she knows herself, for all the times he guessed what was going on in Natasha's head before she knew it herself – and yes, his suggestion of her moving in with the family is one of the demonstrations of his power to read her, because she secretly enjoys the idea to live with them all full time – so he sees right through her, and she is so gratefull for that.

Natasha tries not to close herself up and start analysing her comportement, because Maria next to her is freaking out on her own way too. So she doesn't look at her, she can't, not right now, but she finds her hand and tangle their fingers then squeeze. It's okay, it says. It's okay. We'll adjust.

She has no idea how, but they will. They always do. She found a way to close a freaking gate to an other dimension in the New York sky, she will find a way to navigate this new relationship as well.

Her determination shines in her posture, and the two agents with her seem appeased by it. Maria relaxes next to her, and she knows without looking that she choose not to take her Commander's image. She choose to stay Maria in front of Clint.

Like switching a button, Clint is on partner mode, or more on best friend mode. He senses Natasha's struggle and goes for the intertaining part of himself.

' Okay, i've got a new one ' he says with a smug grin on his face while dropping his old cloth on the ground at the feet of his bed. Natasha grunts in mock annoyance, but truly she is relieved her friend is here to support her and make her feel grounded. She needs some normal, as normal as they can both be. They have a routine.

Maria doesn't say anything, she just twitches her hand so their fingers interlace in a better position. Not long after that, her thumb starts drawing on the back of Natasha's hand, and she knows she's okay now.

' Artie told me this one : what is a mole on a blonde's butt ? ' Clint continues his moving arround, digging out a cereal box, plonging his forearm in it and bringing a handfull to his mouth like an innocent ten years old. He eyes both women, waiting, munching. More like building up the suspense he clearly is the only one to sense. Maria and Natasha are no good public for his jokes, but he ignores it, too engrossed in his rôle to notice. Clint loves telling jokes, to anybody that really know him that is. No need to say it is the first time Maria sees that part of him. Sure, she suspected his playfull side, seeing glimpse of it from afare, but she never had it first hand. Natasha doesn't even has to look, she knows Hill has an eyebrow raised hearing the subject of conversation – or monologue so far. The scene makes her smile. She is safe, with her two friends. Even if she is confused and absolutly needs to deal with her lack of control, she is safe none the less.

She sends a thankfull smile to Clint. Her body releases its tension and she finally leans back in the bed, back to the wall next to Maria. Hands still locked between them, she closes the gap, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder, and bring they joigned hands to her lap. She drops her head on Maria's shoulder. Hill stiffens at that demonstration of intimaty but Natasha squeezes her hand once again. It's okay, it says. You can relax. And she does. Then Natasha hooks her wagon to Clint's show, sighs heavely and pretends to be yawning loudly.

' Soooo ? What's the answer, boyfriend ? ' she asks the ritual question with her husky voice. And that's what he was waiting for. He snickers under his breath, feeling in the suspence, even rubs his hands together in delight at the chute.

' A brain tumor ! ' He actually jumps a little on his toes, his cheesy grin wide on his face, the picture of a grown child. Natasha loves him so much.

' Not bad ' she rolls her eyes and doesn't laught because, well, it's not that funny, it's an easy joke as the one before that, and the one before that. It's Clint's thing. ' There ' she points the corner of the room, on the microwave. Clint goes for his worn notebook, there must be hundreds written in there by now. She brings her free wrist to her mouth, teeth to one of the small pockets there, and retrieve a tiny pen. ' Here ' she calls. She sends the item slowly, he catches it effortessly. ' Don't press the top button ' Otherwise he'll be good for a nap. He stays by the microwave, still in his towel dropping water everywhere and notes his new discovery with a lot of attention. She sees as he refreins from chewing on the tip of the pen. He brings it to his mouth with a focus frown.

'How to you spell brain ? ' he asks with a smirk he can't hide.

Natasha doesn't respond to that, but she senses Maria really wants to. Natasha's other hand carress the inside of the bare forearm and Hill exhales and totally forgets about him.

' I prefered the other one about the alien though ' Natasha keeps the easy conversation going. For a while after the whole Loky debacle, Clint found a way to deal with his trauma by using heavy jokes all the time. It came to a point where Laura forced him to make an appointement to a shrink, as he called it. Only then he started really healing and the jokes became less dark and more fun. Some jokes were actually really good, and it was an added bonus when Natasha was there to witness Thor's reaction to it. 'What was the one about spaceship again ? With the red button thing' she asks absentmindly, her hand still brushing Maria's inner arm.

Clint points a thoughtfull finger to his chin. 'Mmmm'

Natasha's attention isn't on him anymore. Maria is tensed suddenly and it's not for fear of a new bad humor exposure. She sees her taping her ear.

'Hill' The tone is sharp as the Commander answers her phone. She doesn't move yet, but it's clear she is about to. She has an Agency to run. Natasha is amazed she got to spend so much time with her already. As predictable, the Deputy Director clenches her jaw. 'Tell him i'm there in five' With a new tap she disconnects the coms and sighs heavely, closing her eyes briefly. When she opens them once more she looks at Natasha, her blue eyes soft despite her tense posture against the pillow. The Commander choses to ignore the presence of Clint and smiles to Natasha, her special caring smile. She brings the hand still closed in hers to her lips, brushes her skin softly. When she puts their joined hands down to her own bare lap, her other hand comes to play with long red hair near Natasha's face. All the while Natasha forgets to breath and definately forgets about Clint too. She is too engrossed by Maria's stare and gentle care. Her gesture of departing. For now.

They are no women for empty words, the gesture is enough of a good bye and a promess to meet soon, as soon as both their lives allow. For now, the moments they've shared, even tainted by the tunnel part, are a gift and a secret memory to cherish. Until next time.

Natasha doesn't move as Maria distangles herself and stands up in the messy bunk. She watches her becoming the Commander Hard Ass Hill, muscles tense, jaw set. Even in her sport attire with her hair a little out of place, this woman commands respect and attention. Her authority radiates from her like heat from the sun. She is already at the door, hand on the handle, when Natasha's brain pops an information to her consciousness.

'Wait ! 'She bolts out of bed. In two steps she is next to Maria. Hill has stopped her movement but is clearly counting her time. 'What about your appartement ? Your safety ? Did you eliminate the threat ? ' Natasha's whole attitude is tense, concerned. She silently berates herself for not thinking about it sooner.

She knows Maria can handle herself, of course, but it doesn't stop her belly to feel like there are knots in it. It's unconfortable. She is worried, like the first time she watched Cooper climb the mapple tree at the farm.

Hill shrugs one shoulder quickly, opens the door and is already out.

'Sorry Nat, i don't have time now. But i'm okay, i'm taking care of it' She murmures.

So no, she didn't find them, they are still out there somewhere waiting for an other opportunity to strike. There is no time to discuste this and Hill is almost at the corridor when she stops short and turns arround, her fierce eyes to Natasha.

'It's fine' All in her screams power to be recoin with. Natasha remembers Maria's secret protection then.

'Okay' she nods in the hallway where agents watch Maria curiously.

Maria's eyes shine a little at that, then she is gone in a flash.

Natasha is still looking at the deserted exit when Clint – now dressed – comes next to her, arms crossed on his chest.

'She's been living here. No incident. I've not been arround much but you know her. The Commander doesn't let a threat slide. She'll handle it.' He shoves an arm accross her shoulder and drags her to their bunk. 'If the boss is gonna be your girlfriend from now on, i think i need an other drink. '

/

/

/

/  
TBC

:o)


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

She is waiting on the tarmac of the Hellicarrier, and she is _really_ pist off. The staff can feel the waves of anger radiate from her, they chose the wise path and avoid their Commander like the plague, leaving her be with a six meters radius, not daring to disturbe her when she is in that state. Maria Hill stands alone, arms crossed at her chest.

She is furious.

She already has much on her plate, juggling with the Agency's day to day missions and reports, assuming the world security as it is, also looking for the still mysterious perpertreter of the recent attack she experienced first hand at her own apartement, but now fucking Nick Fury takes the cake.

She doesn't want to deal with this shit. Certainly not after New York.

Yet, as usual, she has to. She must rein on the man's temper because no-one else will dare cross the all mighty Director with one eye and bad ass attitude. Fury is intimidating to everyone on the crew, and even if some on top level have earn his respect, like Coulson for instance, none of those agents dares defying him as blatently as shedoes. Maybe because she knows he will not demote her, not when she knows he sees her competent, devoted to the job, and prefers very much having her as a pain in his ass than any bureaucrat choosen by the Council to be his deputy.

So, all in all, she is the only one to stand her ground when it comes to call bullshit.

She grites her teeth, muscles extremly tense under her uniform.

Fucking Fury.

Maria just hanged up the phone with General Talbot still yelling on the line. It's not the polite thing to do, not the political thing to do, but then, she isn't the kind little housewife type and doesn't give a shit about pretencious prick - _everybody_ knows this -, plus the screaming outraged man didn't provide any more informations whatsoever. She cut him off with a curt 'I'll talk to the Director about it, General' before turning her earbutton off with a final click. After that, she just stormed out of her office, not answering to Art's questions or anyone else's. Thanksfully for the assistant, he took the hint without bothering her. Probably when she threw him a glare that would have burn him to the ground if her powers were that kind of power. She almost wishes she has that ability right now, and she knows exactly who she would torture with it.

She is waiting on the tarmac with a scowl that hasn't left her face, and she intents to explode the second Fury's aircraft lands. The last time she was that furious with him was when they were alone after the Teseract fiasco and its so heavy consequences. She went berserk on him the minute they were truly alone, and he conveniently choose to vanish for a few months after that, leaving all the aftermath for her to deal with. Typical.

Maria waits in the strong wind of the night, feet planted on the ground, unmoving. She knows the Director is coming, it's the first thing she checked after hanging up to Talbot's face. Twenty minutes out, the agent in charged of tarmac circulation told her in her com. She's been waiting fourteen, leaving the management of the base and on going missions to her assistant, and Coulson. Art knows better than to seek her out right now, she knows he will go for Coulson like he did before. She really needs to make this official.

She senses a presence behind her. Her creative mind is thrown out of the many ideas she is currently imagining about how to better berate the Director with the right kind of choosen words the infuriating man deserve and more, when her skin makes this tingling thing it sometimes - randomly- does when a potential threat is near by. This extension of her power rarely shows up, but when it does decide to fonction nobody can creep up on her no mater their skills in hidding themselves. As soon as they make up their mind about going at her for whatever the reason, a shiver crawls up her back to warn her. She never tried to understand it or master it because, well, she always ignored that part of herself with high dedication, even when this facet of her _unwanted_ speciality saved her life more than once along the years.

Maria tenses as the tingling starts, but she doesn't move. Even as her whole body is on high alert there are agents moving around like usual, everyone avoiding her, none acting like there is a potential threat near by. Since she is standing in the middle of the tarmac, her watcher is either invisible or non threatening. Her skin keeps itching on her back. Her 'tingles' are always right, she learned that the hard way. The threat must be invisible then. She is about to check behind her, choosing to twist her body and drop to the ground for good momentum while going for her side arm, when the wind blurs from behind her and hits her senses. She recognises the scent. She would gladly spend hours bathing in it. Natasha. It is Natasha that stands probably ten meters behind her, volontarely letting the breeze alert Maria of her presence. She is no threat. Yet Hill's ability seems to consider otherwise as the tingle persue. That alone is strange, because Maria never felt the tingle when she was with the Russian before. Curious as to what provoqued her tingling response -maybe she should try to find a better way to name that phenomenum, even in her head - Maria steps back and half turns around. Her gaze finds Natasha standing behind her in the tarmac, the agent eyeing her like she would a target or a menace, watching her like she would look at Banner when he starts to get agitated. Romanoff is wary of her and clearly is gauging weither or not to intervin. Even with the bound recently developping between them, Maria is way past the point anybody would be able to apaise her, not even Natasha. There is no mistaking her state, as Romanoff guessed easely, Maria Hill is about to strike, and no-one will be able to stop her wrathm from unraveling.

Commander Hill can be a very, very patient officer. She is a master at controling her emotions, she barely doesn't feel any as it is. She is cold, efficient Deputy Director of the most ultimetly important Agency of the world. She has a duty to the people, to protect. She does her job well, she does her job great. Except when her _Director_ decides to play stupid behind her back. Again. That's when her patience is going thin, when her coldness becomes fire of anger lurking under her skin, ready to get loose.

Commander Hill doesn't get angry often, really, but Nick Fury has a nack to get it out of her regularely. At least five times a year.

'Go away Romanoff' she shouts in the wind before turning around, searching the sky once more. Fury's plane is growing in the air. Good. 'Don't use up your free time babysitting me'

In one swift motion, she clips her earphone three times, then once more. 'I want three units of with me on the tarmac ASAP. Possible threat on the way to the base right now. Be ready to escort the Director's guests' she barks the word with a snarl. 'Escort, keep caution, ready to engage if necessary'

She is about to cut the com out when she pauses. 'Did the Director give any orders regarding his arrival ?' Her tone is cold and anyone working with her for quite some time would be abble to hear the fury waiting to unleash. Art is new.

'No, Commander. Director Fury only send his time flight, sir. Would you like me to contact the ship ?'

She doesn't bother answering and clicks her button with a cliped jaw, mulling her anger. The fire of her rage is growing strong, so strong. The tingling sensation isn't helping. Fucking Fury. She will truttle him. Her whole body is already shaking at the idea. She is a ticking timebomb.

Wait a minute. Something is wrong.

In the haze of her fury, Maria realises that she never felt that much wrath. Ever. She is so controlled usualy. Her own father couldn't get to her at the worst time of her life, so why, she muses suddenly, why is she seething like she is now ? Standing in the middle of the tarmac, she feels wild, unrestrained, and all over a phone call ? Not even Fury's stupidity, which was predictable at this point after years working with the man, warrant such a reaction. Not from her.

She never felt so much rage, and it doesn't make sense.

In the light of Romanoff assessening her as a real potential threat to anihilate, Maria briefly wonders if her power might be getting out of hand. She feels reckless and savage, even as her posture is rigid as always, she knows better. She knows _herself_. Something is very wrong.

She'll have to wait until they are safely in the privaty of office to yell at Fury then. If anyone seeing her attacking the Director, not only verbaly but with her fists like she feels about doing right now, would fell their duty to stop her, therefor triggering her fucking blue protection halo and outing her to all. Her unwanted power of overprotection isn't really transparent. If she lets loose of her temper in the middle of the tarmac in plain sight of the crew her secret will not stay secret. She definately doesn't want that to happen. She already has too much people knowing about it, some of them targetting her in her appartement to test the boundaries of it with heavy chimicals, she absolutly doesn't need more.

She glares at Natasha when the mere presence of the woman makes her realise her uncontrolled anger. Now she'll have to rein on the storm waiting to lash out. Maybe she should get out of here, because she doesn't honestly think she can restrain from punching Fury if she sees him right now.

She grunts and almost stomps her foot to the ground, her fists so tight she would really love some release. She needs to attack. She is seething from restrain, her whole body trembling at the very idea of swallowing her anger. Her vision is blury, instable, her breathing pattern starts to change and she draws sharp, curt breath through her teeth. She is on an edge, quickly about to fall out of control. Suddenly she realises this is a very bad idea, it's clear she doesn't stand a chance of control as soon as the Director step out of his pod. She can't spend a minute with the man, walking silently toward their office to have a private shouting berating. She will not wait. Her temper is out of control.

She has to turn around and barricade herself into her quarters then, knowing Nick will come find her to brag about his findings – more like stealing – even though he already knows the greeting he will receive about it. She really is about to move out of the tarmac and cool down in her office. When the choper appears in the sky.

Maria's gaze is fixed on it, and she is absolutly unable to make her feet move when her target is already in sight. So close. She is ready to fight, to lash out, and so so eager she steps ahead a little, arms uncrossed and slightly bend forward like a predator about to jump on its prey. Her back tingles more but she dismisses it, she stares unblinking at her target growing in the sky.

'Maria'

Natasha's voice is soft behind her. Maria forgot about her. The agent is standing closer now, maybe three meters in her back. Maria doesn't check. She is too focused on the aircraft making its descent on the carrier. Fury is so close now...

Her legs start moving. She is pacing like an animal now.

' _Maria_.'

Natasha's hysky voice draws out with an urgency in her tone Maria barely registers.

'You're _crackling_ blue, Maria.'

There is a specific warning in Romanoff's tone, an edge like to a warrior about to draw its sword when all discutions are over, and _that_ takes Maria's attention. A threat. Something to explode on. The tingling is so very welcome now, it mixes with the hot fire spreading all over her body now. Maria turns, slowly, predatory. Her eyes meet those green orbes of the agent standing three feet behind. A feral grin spreads on her lips as she licks them. Her chin dips a little to the ground, eyes fixed on her prey. This is going to be fun.

For a moment, the Russian blinks at her, eyes wide, but then her gaze narrows as she adjusts her stance too, bending slightly in response to Maria's agressive posture. Long red locks sway in the wind, picking at the fire in Hill's haze. The prey before her is a nice, bright play toy ready to be chew. Maria is wild now, barely abloe to think, she is a baw of fury about to snarl and jump her prey. The target tilts its head, eyebrow raised, and smirks, coy, unimpressed. Challenging.

White anger flashes in her veins. She's about to wipe that grin from this face.

'I've never seen you like this'

The husky voice of the prey comments lightly in the air between them. Maria hears the words but doesn't understand it. It's just noise. Her brain fonctions are shut down, she is only instinct. Still, she hears the tone of the voice aiming at her.

'But i guess that's not really surprising, there is a lot about you that nobody knows. Deep secrets. Dark secrets.'

The almost bored voice carries on, a glint in green eyes. Taunting.

'What is it ? Bad day at the office ? Feel like punching something ? '

Maria groans, baring her teeth more.

The red head prey pushes forward, its face inviting and threatening.

'Come hit me then'

It steps toward Maria.

'Need me to start ? '

The target is about to step forward again. Too close. The roar rings deep in Maria's chest. She launches her whole body to the prey. The petite redhead jumps to the side with a whirling motion, all grace and fluidity. The prey doesn't stop and already retreats to one of the ship's door, its smirk never leaving its face. Maria is on a hunting trip now, never stopping either, she pushes right for her prey, the red locks feeding her wrath. Nothing exists but her prey, her lips roll up her teeth, muscles bend, she fallows, long strides bringing her closer, closer.

She just needs to touch it once.

As the scenary blurs around the chase, green eyes meet hers from time to time, always smug and defiant, and Maria pushes harder. She doesn't notice the change of scenary, doesn't notice the ground and walls moving around her, all she sees is her goal, the red. And she's getting closer. Few steps more and the game will be over.

The prey looks at her before taking a sharp turn left. In fluid motion it drops to the ground, slides itself across the sudden white, bright floor, rolls and lands on a crouch, red locks framing its face, green eyes boring into Maria, smirk still on its lips, breathing hard. Maria doesn't relent, doesn't hesitate, all focused on her mark. In one powerfull step she is on it, her mouth starting a victory smile, claws ready to tear flesh appart, when her momentum is violently cut short and her whole body hits something hard. She reboundes backward, unbalanced, and for a second her legs give up under her. But her muscles jerk, tense anew, she snarls and starts toward the target, only to be met with the same effect. A resistance. Something invisible is blocking her advance. She grites her teeth and growls, eyes never leaving her prey. Green eyes are mocking her, taunting her, as she paces back and forth. The prey is there, just right there, but out of reach. It slowly stands and its facial expression changes in the middle of all the red.

Through her haze of violence, something stires in Maria. Her eyes never leaves her prey as the red target... the red... person... tilts its head to the side, studying her.

With passing minutes Maria's breathing starts to ease, her pace a little less wide, but her muscles are still tense, her instinct still on alert. Ready to fight. The target doesn't move at first, arms to its side, neutral face, scanning eyes. But then, the hardness of white skin smoothes, the edge of the jaw relaxes, even the eyes become soft. Caring. The lips that were taunting her are offering a small smile, a peace offering.

A smile that wakes something within Maria, something...

Without meaning to, Maria stops pacing and looks at it. Her. The woman. Not a target. Red. Soft crimson locks that her fingers itche to touch, a memory imprinted on her skin. She knows this prey. This person.

She knows this person.

Maria comes a step closer, intrigued. There is something there. Something calling out for her in those green eyes. And this smile. She knows this smile. She knows the taste of it, she can almost reach it...

With a sharp intake of breath, something clicks in her head and her eyes go wide. Her next step falters and Maria brasses herself on the glass, her sweaty palm clenching against the strong wall. She struggles, she won't stop looking, she can't stop looking at those green eyes that lure her mind to work, to realise what is happening, to remember _who she is_. The bun lets lose of hair and she bends slightly, out of breath. She isn't tired of her chase, no, her body is still burning to keep the hunt going, but she resists the urge, she uses all her energy to _come back_. Come back to herself.

What is happening ? What is _happening_ ?

Her blown pupils stare at … She remembers...

Maria breaths stronger, eyes boring into the woman. She will herself to remember those eyes, this smile. This red she knows she loves somewhere inside. A sound, there is a sound, close, a sound to go with this image, this beautiful woman she sees now clearly, so bright.

She breaths more and she waits. She swims forever in those green eyes and then the sound is finally clear.

Natasha.

Watching behind the glass, the woman lets her small smile spread a little more, green eyes carressing Maria's face with obvious relief.

Natasha. That's her name. She knows now.

She remembers.

Smiling wide, Romanoff's face is a welcoming party. She looks young and fresh.

'Hi'

Maria almost laugh at that.

It is starting to become their usual greeting it seems. She doesn't laugh however, she doesn't have it in her. She can barely talk as it is, her mind still foggy, her tongue feels like a sponge. She can only crack half a smile that feels bitter in her mouth. The last of herself comes back and the fire ease in her veins. She doesn't move though, she feels like a statue, exhausted and broken. Suddenly, after long seconds of silence, the smiling face of Natasha, so caring and sweet, is too much to look at. Maria averts her eyes to the floor.

Her voice is brooken, she knows, when she murmurs anyway.

'Hi'

There is silence then, longer, thick. Awkward from Maria's end. She stays in her position, bend against the glass, her other hand laying limp at her side. Defeated. She feels defeated. And ashamed. She allows herself one more minute to swim in her self loathing, eyes shut, head low. Just one minute...

There is moisture in her eyes, she clunches them harder, every muscle on her face tense.

'Hey'

The familiar husky voice, the voice she came to long for, is calling her, and she doesn't have it in her to respond. She can't.

'It's okay, Maria. You're okay.' A beat. 'I'm okay'

Maria sighs and her face relaxes. The fire retires. She is so tired now.

'Yeah...' her dry throat releases.

'Maria. You're contained now. We'll deal with this.'

Finaly her legs give up and she sags against the glass. She is kneeling in front of Natasha, utterly exhausted, she doesn't have the force to bring up her Commander persona. With a grunt she adjusts her position on the bright floor. Her right side layes on the wall, bending knees to her chest, she tucks her chin between them and she sighs. Her tired eyes scan her surroundings and she is pleased Natasha was there to handle her. The agent is smart and chose to lure her to the only place she rightfully thought might be able to emprison the wild card with unknown powers that Maria was. Is. That she _is_.

Hill closes her eyes at the thought. She is an enhansed individual with unpredictable and clearly unstable powers that could go wrong. So wrong. She is becoming one of them. A possible threat.

And there she was on the tarmac, minutes ago, about to jump on Fury about that particular topic. The irony of her situation isn't lost on her. Helas.

As she scans the white room she sees that nobody is here with them. There is just Natasha. The staff must have witnessed her outburst and stay clear, however they certainly are monitoring her on the deck. She doesn't strain her neck to check the cameras, she knows they're here and rolling.

'What do you want to do ?'

The words take a second to register. Natasha picks up on her confusion.

'Do you want to stay here or...' Romanoff makes a vague gesture to the consol behind her. One code and the press of a button and she could be out of here.

Her gaze scans the thick, strong curby walls all arround her. The Hulk cell. It's a good thing Banner doesn't need it right this moment. Maria remembers he just went to met with Stark about a new project, which doesn't sound good to her. Stark is a catastrophy waiting to happen. Banner's brain should stay as far as possible away from the playboy nightmare, but the Avengers are Fury's toys and off limits. Whatever. She is in no position to say anything now. Because of her little outburst, she is contained, and it's not going to take long for tha Agency to mark her with a tag. Fuck.

Maybe no-one say the blue power thing. Maybe they just saw her running after Romanoff and think none of it. Maybe she can get away with it.

That's what Natasha is offering, to open the gate and walk away like nothing ever happened. Maria is so, so tempted to take it. It's been minutes since they got here, she have the time to move, now.

But Commander Hill is responsable for the safety of her ship and all of its crew. And she knows she is not stable, she is not in control. She just lost it just now and she can still feel the burning rage lurking inside of her. It is new, it is wilde, and she doesn't fool herself by thinking she can manage it. She can't. She never wanted to master her abalities, and today it comes bitting her in the ass.

She will never allow herself to become a threat to her people. She can't afford to be a wild card, not on her ship or anywhere else.

So, no escaping this cage for now.

Natasha nods knowingly and doesn't wait for a response, she guesses it anyway. Maria Hill doesn't deal with threat with anything less than absolute caution. No exception.

/

'So'

Natasha's voice is all business now. Even as Maria adjusted and is staring at the celling, spread out in the middle of the floor – her uniform is crumpled, her hair no better, but she doesn't care right now - , she can easely picture the agent with her hands on her hips, standing her ground in front of the glass, her sexy body molden by he black uniform. The Black Widow towering.

'So ?'

Mari answers sarcasticly without moving. She is so tired of this shit. All her life she tried so hard to avoid this. Fuck.

The fire still hums somewhere in the background of her skin.

'This little episode of yours, was it the first time or is it normal for you ?'

There is annoyance dripping in Romanoff's tone. She doesn't like Hill's closed off attitude. Well, she'll have to deal with it. To each his own. She grites her teeth before answering.

'First'

'Really, Hill ? Are you going to give me one word sentences every time ? We've got to deal with this, Maria, and _now_. Fury will be here in minutes so you better take your pick.'

Fuck her life. Nick is going to enjoy this. It's enfuriating to think _she_ is the one that should be pist off at him for his last adventure, not the other way around. But thanks to her 'little episode' like Nathasha puts it, he will be able to swift his new purchase abord her ship with no resistance from anyone. She, at least, hopes the units she requested are on the tarmac ready to receve the package.

With a grunt, Maria doesn't bother to sit, she stays laying on the ground and taps her com.

'Fury landed ?'

'Yes sir'

'No trouble with his guests ?'

'No sir...

'What is it ?'

'The guest are in the Director's office and the director is looking for you sir'

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

'Take care of my ship Art'

With that she disconnects the call and keeps her eyes on the celling, unseeing. She sighs and allows herself one last second of lounge. She has to get a grip and move fast on this.

'Okay'

She sighs again and blinks one more time to the celling, gathering the energy to face this shit. She can do this. She rolls to sit on the too bright floor and finds Romanoff with her hands on her hips, waiting with an eyebrow raised on her serious face. Right.

'It's not the first time i experienced this level of anger. I've at least felt it five times a year. With morons all around it's not exactly surprising that i lose my cool once in a while.'

A few faces of the morons come to mind, a back one eyed first on her list.

'But i never reacted like...' She trails with a a vague hand gesture. '...that, before. Never. That's new'

'Do you think it's linked to your...'

Sharp blue eyes find green in a silent order to _shut up_. There are cameras and mic here, they are _not_ alone for this conversation to be opened. Romanoff gives her an expectant raised eyebrow. Maria grunts, swallows and lets her facial expression relaxes. A little. She is on edge and can't get her emotions in control. Something is definately wrong.

'Probably. But i don't see how. Nothing has changed. I mean. The attack... I'm certain that didn't affect me at all. It's been past half a month, i didn't fell anything then and it's not the first time i've been exposed to this kind of thing.'

The tries to be evasive but she knows she is already saying too much to many prying ears. She gets up from the floor, her composture starting to come back to normal. Her Deputy Director façade is slowly filling her. Her control. She feels her joints and muscles cringe when she straightens herself in the middle of the cell, her hands dust off her pants and pull on the bottom of her jacket and sleeves before clearing her face from the loose locks of brown hair, hooking them behind her ears. This will do for now. She clears her throat and brings her hands behind her back. It's better, but it's not enough. She feels too exposed, too raw, her control is still for the most part out of reach. She doesn't remember feeling that much in... ever. She always had a nack to repress everything, to live through everything without a care. She is not the caring type, but yet she is in this state now. She doesn't comprehend what triggerded that change, what could possibly have...

She is pacing in the white cage when she comes to an abrupt stop. Her head snaps to the left, eyes wides in recognision boring into the Russian.

'You'

Her tone is stunned and accusing, her whole body tense. She doesn't elaborate, she _can't_ , not here, even though her tongue wants to she keeps her mouth shut with a click of her jaw. Natasha stares at her for a moment, then understanding washes over her. Yes. Nothing in her posture changes except for the micro details. Her muscles slightly relax and her eyes barely open more, but it's there and they have a silent conversation now, very aware of their audience. No-one can know about the new developement of their relationship.

After seconds – they don't have _time_ do dwell on anything - Natasha sighs and moves, a hand massaging her forehead as she turns to the side.

'We have to deal with this'

Maria's temper is still not in check and her blood boils in her ear.

'No shit ! '

She grites out, fists trembling. Her rage is begging to rise again, to get loose. She doesn't recognise herself. She tries to breath and focuse, focuse on Natasha, Natasha Romanoff, the woman who attoned in so many ways, the beautiful Russian who was lost for so long, but who found herself and learned to be soft, to smile genuily, to laugh... Natasha.

She can see Natasha looking at her with surprise and she wants to talk, to tell her it's okay, because she feels the anger relent inside of her. Slowly, the calm is coming back and she breaths. She can't speak, but she can soften her eyes, try a smile. She does. She knows it's mostly a grimace but it works, Natasha relaxes. The beast inside Maria stands back.

She realises then that she is extra sensitive to any form of agression now. Any threat she perceives, no matter the level, is the trigger to her ire. If Natasha had passed from surprise to caution, it would have been enough to set Maria off.

Great.

'I think i know the trigger'

Never leaving her eyes, Natasha nods slowly.

'I just...'

Maria swallows and releases her fist. She is focusing on her breathing, on green eyes and nothing else. She forces the words out of her mouth.

'Can't -talk -here'

She absolutly can't divulge any weakness.

'Classified'

She grites out, hoping Natasha will take it from here.

The agent nods swiftly, turns her head to the side, never breaking eye contact. She must sense that Maria needs it to regain control. Clever little Russian woman. Maria is busy breathing and focusing on the red locks, the smooth skin, the inviting lips and the grace of it all, but she still realises Romanoff is talking to someone else.

'We can't move her out. She's unstable.'

Her tone is sharp, professional. Good. At least one of them can be.

'Disable all cameras and mics'

'You sure ?'

A male voice comes from above. The hawkeye. Even if having anyone witnessing her break down makes her cringe, Maria is glad Natasha has her best friend to watch her back.

'Do it'

The Russian answers, her green eyes reassuring Maria.

It takes not even a minute. They are pros at spying after all. Maria knows they have a micro EMP that can rend all electronics in the room inoperative for a short time. A small signal is all the confirmation Barton gives and it's enough for Natasha to fully turn toward Maria once more. Her stance changes completely and she steps closer to the glass, one hand pushed flat on the surface. Her face loses all its neutrality and she smiles, soft, caring. Natasha. The Natasha she dares to be when they are together, alone.

'Nat...'

Maria's own demeanour breaks and she closes the distance in two steps. Her own hand touches the wall, the cold glass between their skin. She pushes her face to the glass, begging to be closer, to feel the confort of an embrace, to tuck her nose into the curve of Natasha's warm neck, to smell her... She wants... Just for a moment, she wants to forget, to take a pause, to leave it all behind and nest in Natasha's arms.

But she can't.

They don't have much time. She is even surprised Fury isn't already here. She swallows her foolish longing, clears her throat from the sob she knows is choking her vocal cords.

'We don't have much time.'

Her voice wavers. She coughs.

'Fury will be here in minutes'

She tells herself as much as she tells Natasha. The Russian nods with a sad smile. There is longing in her eyes. They both want to hide, to have just five minutes for themselves, to reassure and sooth the uncertainty. They can't.

Maria starts to speak fast, pressed against the glass.

'I've felt rage before, Nat. I had plenty of reasons to. Yet this time it's like everything is enhansed, sharper, stronger. I had not control, Nat, none. I was like an animal, wild, like a beast. I couldn't think... '

She swallows. She doesn't have time to elaborate and she is glad for it, because she can't realy name what it felt, to be so... savage. Her eyes are tense with resolve.

' _You_ are the thing that changed in my life Nat. You make me feel. I never felt that much before, about anything, and maybe it's like it opened a gate or something inside of me, i don't know. Like i can feel more of anything. Everything.'

She doesn't stop to dwell on the fact that she is basicly confessing her _feelings_ for Natasha. It is not about that, not about them, it is about assessening and managing a threat. Herself. They need understanding, and fast. She sighs.

'I don't know' She rushes 'But now when i am angry, realy angry, furious, i am hyper aware of any potential threats around me. You were a threat, earlier. I could feel your... intention to strike.'

She struggles to put words into this.

'It was like i could feel your waves, i don't know.' She closes her fist in frustration. 'The threat feed my anger and i lost it.'

'Okay'

The husky voice is calm in the silence.

'Okay ?'

Maria's is sceptic and tired.

'Okay'

Natasha repeats with ease.

'I guess we'll start with some kind of Banner treatment, and we'll go from there '

'What ?'

She doesn't have time to process that Romanoff fallows up.

'You need to tell me _exactly_ about your powers, all of it. You need to get this under control, Maria. We can't let you walk around the Agency in this state. You know that. And you can't stand to be quarantined, out of the loop of the Agency. _I_ know that. So you have a choice to make. Either we treat you as a potential threat and we lock you up like any other enhanced on the list, monitored and secured, either you learn to really master your abilities and you remains the Hard Ass Commander Hill i know you are. Your choice.'

Maria blinks, mouth opened. Natasha is looking at her with her hands on her hip, her dictative no-bullshit tone cuts in her brain. She can't escape this, not this time. Checkmate.

'I agree'

The sarcastic low voice rings in her ears. Of course he is here to flash his victory in her face. He gets what he wanted all along.

'So you will train, Agent Hill. Romanoff will be your training officer. You will be send on a secured and high classified location and you will tell her _everything_ , Hill. That's an order.'

Maria grunts and turns around, giving him her back as she crosses her arms over her chest. She tries to rein on her rising anger and keeps her brain working.

'You'll stay here until your transfert. When you're on the ground you'll willingly give a sample of whatever it is that is needed to help assess your state and possible treatment.'

She can hear Fury's amusement. The happy bastard has her cornered. He will get his tests now.

'Or do you prefer the residence of a cell, Agent ? '

He taunts her and she feels the rage growing. She closes her eyes. There is no tingle. Fury is no threat. She needs to relax.

'Sir'

Natasha's clipt tone makes her pause. Natasha. She focuses on Natasha. Sweet, caring Natasha. She tunes to her voice and breathes.

' I need everything you have on Commander Hill. ' There is a pause, she is probably raising her eyebrow once more. Maria doesn't dare turn around to see her even when all in her wants to, because she knows Fury is standing right next to her.

' I know you have data about her, you have data about all of us, and she is your Deputy Director. You wouldn't have chosen her without knowing who she is. I need it, all of it. And no-one else can know about her current situation, not about her episode just now, not about her... originality, not about her treatment. Nothing licks.'

'Don't order me around, Romanoff. I know what needs to be done. Banner, you and me will be the only ones to know about her. Well... Barton too, obviously.'

Oh. Maria forgot about him. She must really be out of it.

'Mmm, know about what exactly ?'

The Hawkeye is no longer on higher ground, his voice indicates he is standing with the rest of the deciding team. Apparently Maria _isn't_ among the deciding team.

'We need to keep this quiet. The staff and the Council must not know about this. You and Romanoff are on your own to deal with Hill. Gather your gear and hers, i'll give you an aircraft preped with what you'll need, and location to land. Protocal Loner and Lullaby, Agents. You know the drill. Take the same course, and the same _precautions_.'

He strains the word purposfully. The warning is clear. Maria is the next Hulk to be. Great.

'Oh and Agent Hill, you're suspended from duty starting immediatly.'

/

The aircraft comes under the hellicarier and takes her cell on it's roof. She doesn't have to be moved. That's how much she is impredictable right now apparently. Everything was perfectly fine this morning. As fine as a normal day running the Agency could be. She was sculpting Art to be her assistant and picking up some more helping people to delegate her workload. Really, it was fine. Then Barton called, Natasha was in a hole, Fury went stupid, leaving her to clean his mess, and somehow she ends up in a flying cell, looking at the sky rushing by.

'Landing point in twenty Commander'

At least Barton is treating this like a common mission. His voice is cut by the com and the cell remains quiet. The landscape is actually nice to look at, when you take the time. Maria never really took the time though, when she was on the hellicarrier, always something on her mind, something to do or to supervise. Now she can watche, she is out of job after all. Except, who is she kidding ? She can't make herself relax and enjoy this moment, her brain is already at work to resolve this mess and go back to her desk. She has a ship to lead, she can't let Fury unsupervised for long. Certainly not with his current new toys that he conveniently choose not to mention while releasing her from duty in one go. She has to go back as fast as she can. The twins are a situation ready to go boom. On her ship.

Hill gets up from her position on the floor, finds her footing and walks to the com. She presses the button, her commanding tone back in full force now that her emotions are finally in control. She can feel it, there fire is out.

'Slide the fucking flying cell _into_ the pod, Agent. We don't have time to waste.'

Well, almost in control. The cursing word just sliped out but she breathes and straightens herself. She is Commander Hill. She is in charge and she will get go back to her ship.

Barton doesn't answer on the com. The aircraft shifts, the cell goes down and finally the metalic structure appears on the sides and the sky disappears. The round compartiment Hulkproof -suposedly- is now resting in the middle of the jet. Hawkeye is on pilot duty, clearly avoiding looking at her. Were they talking about her ? Was it why he left her outside the plane instead of directly transfering her in it ? For a second Maria narrows her eyes toward him, but the other passenger clears her throat on the tail of the ship. Apparently they decided to keep the coms open between them now. They coud have done that from the start. With a final pointed look toward him, Maria reluctantly turns her attention to the Black Widow. The woman is bend above an open file, probably about her. She is sitted on the floor against a black trunk, probably about her too. Everything is about her now. Fuck. Maria flexes her jaw and choses to ignore the blatant violation of privaty. She always knew this day was coming, doesn't make it easy.

Natasha keeps her head bow, but her eyes look at her from under their eyelashes.

'Army ? '

She asks. And yeah, this is going to be a long day. Maria sighs and squats on the fucking bright floor.

'Is there a button to turn down the light in this thing ?'

She unclenches her fists.

'It makes me edgy'

'You mean edgier ?'

Natasha draws drily before moving to the pilar between the two curving glass of the cell. The neons subdue to dull ambiance.

'Better ?'

Her voice is soft now.

'Yes. Thank you.'

Maria flexes her legs indian style to sit on the bare floor, leveled with Romanoff, and passes a finger between her brows with a tired sigh.

'Look, let's not walk around this. Do what you have to do. I'll try for transparency, but you know how that might turns out. Make me, if you have to. Whatever it takes to get me back on the job. '

She stops her rubbing of her forehead.

'I mean it Romanoff. Do what you have to do.'

The Russian eyes her from her spot in front of her. Her face is neutral, the face of the Black Widow, ready to impersonate whoever. She nods. Here we go.

'Army ?'

Her tone is like her face.

'That's not the beginning of it. My last... moments in the military were important because it made me realise the high amplitude of my protection ability, but Jiaying told me long before that who i am with my... power... is the direct continuity of who i am at the core. She said it all comes to who i am'

Jiaying was a bit of a poetic fuck, always elusive without really giving any information. Like everything in this AfterLife place, the so-called leader of Inhumans used mystery to keep her sheeps in the dark with empty riddles supposed to _enlight_ the traines and make them worthy of Terregenesis. Bullshit. This woman was a fake, but everyone ate in her hand, Gordon at the top of the line. It's a good thing Jiaying is not manipulating anyone anymore. In the chaos and the disparition of many during the desaster of the war between SHIELD and AfterLife, at least her death had been confirmed and her body burnt. No coming back for this one. Maria wishes she could know exactly what happened to all of the Inhumans though. She made sure to stay out of this mess, Fury too happy to keep her as a secret asset for later times – for what, an other alien invasion ? – had let Coulson handle this one in her stead. Truth is, she chose to stay far in the shadows because she didn't want to face her past. She prefered to stay dead.

'So who are you ?'

Maria grimaces. She's in for her life story. Wonderful. She isn't a talking person.

'We don't have time for the side lines, so i'll give you the short cuts to my psyche.'

She uses a mecanical voice as she chooses a spot on the metalic wall of the aircraft to look at and starts telling her story. She speaks short, efficiently, giving facts about her childhood, her dead mother, her abusive father. Sometimes Romanoff snaps a 'full disclosure Hill' and Maria relents more details. She elaborates the different tortures and grieves she faced, alone, throughout her childhood and teenage years as a civilian. She is grateful then, to have Barton and Romanoff as gardians and designated listeners, because she knows they have a similar, dark history. There is no pity, there is no judgement, no shame, no shit coming from them. They just listen and let her pose the pace she needs to give it all out.

Her whole life is resumed as best she can within the time of the flight, there is not much to tell anyway. She narrates like she would read a report about somebody else's life. Gordon showing up, AfterLife, Jiaying and her riddles, Gordon's suffocating crush on her, which led to Terregenesis and her fleeting the crazy bunch of weirdos.

Next comes erasing all traces of her old life, her new identity as Maria Hill, aged enough to enlist. She sumes her six years in the Army, quickly ganing ranks, going on ops as Special Forces, her code name on the squad after the fifth time she 'sensed' a threat and brought her unit to safety before hell broke loose. They called her Gardian. It went for three more years. Still, her 'guts' didn't work all the time. At the end, she didn't warned them about the mines. She couldn't. It was total chaos and all went too fast. When she regained consciousness there was this black man standing above her shadowing the sky. Turns out SHIELD was watching her for a while, her achievements hadn't gone unoticed. The rest is history, but she tells it anyway.

Height years in the Agency with Phil and Sharon slowly worming their way into her inexistant private life, Fury's annual harassment to use her power, and Natasha.

Hill takes a pause. She knows beyond the cold facts regarding her life story she has to talk about her feelings, her emotions. It's the core of the problem she is currently in. Multiple times during her monologue Romanoff asks her to stop her monocord narration and develop the feeling part of it all. They both know powers are triggered by emotions. They need to dig into that. So each time Maria pauses, like now, and struggles to put words to the hollow sensations from her past. Since her father, a very long time ago at the beginning of her life, she switched off her emotions and didn't turned them back on before Coulson's bugging insistance at being her friend. AfterLife and military were all dull and non felt. She was a good soldier with no emotion, the perfect machine with cold efficiency, and that's it. She gained rank, respect and even some admiration in her time in the army, but it didn't affect her. She never wanted to be anything more, no mater how hard her commando unit tried to befriend her. When she joined SHIELD, Fury made her bunk with an other agent, Agent Carter. It was odd, since a Deputy Director could have private quarters of her own, but she didn't say anything because she didn't care. The first real emotion she remembers feeling is annoyance. Coulson took it apon himself to be his shadow man, and he smiled a lot. Genuily. To her. It gritted on her nerves. But then he was also smart, discret, had a curious wity sense of humour that made her lips curl upward. Sometimes. It took Phil two years for Maria to smile a little in his presence, and later to laugh at his stupid jokes.

'When Barton took Black Widow prisonner, Coulson was handling the situation and Fury was hovering next to him. It was overcrowded. I knew Coulson and Fury would balance each other out, so i stayed out of it. Of course i read the mission report, but nothing more about it. I trusted Coulson. If he daigned you clear to walk around the ship with the green light from the psych, that was fine by me. I have an Agency to run, not a babysitting. If you'd lost it, it would have been on Fury's hands. I was still... dull, at the time. I mean, i cared for the Agents under my command, on some level, but it didn't phase me enough to worry. Point is, i was doing my job, and you weren't part of it until the Director demmed otherwise. I had no opinion about the situation. I first met you one year after they brought you, you were in the mess hall. '

With her eyes closed to help her remember, Maria lets a small smile stretch on her face. The young Russian was a beauty of restrained death, impassive, but the danger vibrated around her all the same. She was deadly, and she didn't hide it, not in SHIELD where everybody knew about the Black Widow in their mist. In the back of Maria's mind, she had wondered then if the young woman was hiding her true self behind her code name. Maybe she was more than her upbringing. Only time would tell.

'You were eating with Barton, or maybe it's more accurate to say Barton was sitted next to you, probably still babysitting you'

Her smile grows on her face, her eyes still closed, her voice hoarse from talking. She sees the scene from so long ago. Before Black Widow became Natasha Romanoff.

'So, feelings... Like everyonelse i saw your beauty. Didn't felt anything, it was just a fact like stating the weather. That's not what made me look at you a little more when i should have gone my own way. I felt... drawn. It was barely there, deep inside me. But i... you intrigued me. You made me curious. I wondered who you were, under the surface. I wondered if you knew it yourself.'

She recalls the oddness of it. She never stopped to watch people if it weren't her duty before.

'It lasted only a few seconds, then i turned around and forgot all about it. About you.'

Maria swallows and drops her head. She needs to be honest about this if she wants to control her power.

'I _chose_ to forget about it. I never wanted to feel, anything. I never saw the point of it. To me, feeling would just make me weak. So i didn't look into it, i ignored it, ignored you, and moved on. I really forgot about it, like my brain filed it deep in storage never to think about. I'm surprised to remember now. If i could, i would have erase the memory of those few seconds when you gave me pause, i know it without a doubt. Duty was all i wanted out of life. Easy, uncomplicated. '

Natasha hums somewhere on the left. She is still leaning on the trunk while Maria is now laying on her side, head proped on her hand. She opens her eyes a little and stares at the Russian. For a moment she remains silent and just watches her, she lets her eyes roam over the petite silhouette. Romanoff has her eyes closed too, listening to the story of her life, repertoring every piece of information in her wonderful brain. No data will remain about this. No recording, no notes, just their three memories to understand and resolve the puzzle that is Maria Hill, the unclassified Inhuman.

With a long intake of breath, she starts talking again.

/

/

/

/

A/N

I don't have any excuse, really, i've been lazy.

Big time lazy.

I wrote different versions of this chapter, but at the end i went with the first one. Hope you like it !

I'll try to kick my ass and update soon.


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